


Lady of The Lake

by purebloodcrybaby



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ancient magic, Childhood Friends, Dark, Druids, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Folklore, Forgotten Magic, Gen, Greengrass Family - Freeform, Historical Research, Lost Magic, Love Triangles, M/M, Magizoology (Harry Potter), Merlin - Freeform, Multi, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, The Sacred Twenty-Eight (Harry Potter), actually has diversity and representation, greengrass, pureblood, she's a hippy basically, sweet OC, that last one was a subtweet at rowling, well in this fanfiction its 29
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 202,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26424517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purebloodcrybaby/pseuds/purebloodcrybaby
Summary: "His eyes have always watched her like a wolf circling a lamb. A childhood game grew deep, dark, and dangerous. And now, he's addicted and she's the prize he craves."Estelle Vaile's parents, Cordelia and Calin, were another two victims of Lord Voldemort's first reign of terror, and she was just another unavoidable orphan of the war. Cordelia's family, The Greengrass Family, stepped up to raise the sweet, gentle girl with the help of Cordelia's childhood best friend, Narcissa Malfoy. Draco and Estelle's relationship is no longer the innocent childhood best friendship it used to be. Now, they're old enough for the complexities of high wizarding society to manipulate their every thought. But how will their years at Hogwart's influence their strange relationship?Year One and Two: Complete!
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 32
Kudos: 88





	1. Prologue

I learned from an early age the importance of a name in this world. It carries your legacy and your past. It establishes expectations and rank. Surnames were the bread and butter of the pureblood wizarding society. Sometimes, I wonder if my last name is everything I'm worth. I wonder if the importance had vanished if I would have been raised in an orphanage, or if my parents would still be alive. But the importance is cemented in this world. Nothing about my individuality mattered so long as my last name was Vaile. I was the last of the infamous Vaile line, despite centuries of mindful breeding and preservation. Estelle Cordelia Vaile and then, nothing.

The Vaile Family claims to be descended from the legendary Lady of The Lake, Nimue, or the witch who betrayed and killed her lover Merlin. Many family members even claim that Merlin fathered her children, a daughter, and a son. The stories differ but no one really knows the truth. It was over a thousand years ago. The specifics have long been lost to history. Many people don't believe these claims but the association has been made with our family forever now. The druid origins of Nimue are supported by the family's natural ability to perform magic regarding the natural world and the English Oak wood wands. The claims to Merlin are weak, especially with the Seer and Metamorphmagus abilities growing fainter and fainter with each generation. The prophetic abilities of my family haven't been clearly present in centuries and the metamorphic trait was extremely rare; with the last case being over a hundred years ago. I definitely wasn't born with any special abilities. I couldn't transform my appearance and the skill would have presented itself by now. The only Vaile trait I seemed to possess was my druidic connection to nature and the English Oak wood wand.

Maybe if my parents hadn't died in the war for betraying their families, I could have had a brother or sister to carry this weight alongside. I've heard the stories. My Uncle Jasper and Ms. Malfoy started telling me them when I was younger. My mother Cordelia Greengrass was full of potential until she met my father, Calin Vaile, who seduced her away from her family and friends with his vast knowledge of lost magic and culture and changed her loyalties with their marriage. He ruined her. The great Dark Lord sought them out for their research and discoveries but they refused such a harmless request leading to their deaths. It was selfish of them not to just share the information according to the people around me. There have been so many times I've found myself furious at them for giving up life with me in exchange for keeping their secrets. Blood traitors and muggle sympathizers are what my Aunt Fiona Crabbe explained to me that they were and if I was smart; I would learn from their mistakes.

I tried to understand why they had to die for keeping secrets but I was too scared to ask for an explanation. Everything I did seemed to be on thin ice with everyone because of my parents. My mother's older brother raised me alongside his two daughters Astoria and Daphne at The Greengrass Estate. My mother's twin sister, Fiona Crabbe, wanted nothing to do with raising me, as she disowned my mother the moment she turned her back on them. Her perfect twin sister was no longer so perfect. Uncle Jasper had his hands full as a single father, as his wife Seraphine passed away from dragon pox shortly after Astoria's birth. He struggled to balance his job in the Department of Mysteries and taking care of Astoria who was born with the Greengrass family blood curse to be sickly and weak while raising three girls. He was too paranoid to hire a nanny. There was no saying what an outsider would teach us.

Luckily the pureblood community was very close-knit and assisted him, having understood his concerns with a nanny. Daphne and I would often stay at Pansy Parkinson's estate when Astoria had long stays at St. Mungos or my Uncle was sent off on a business trip. Until we were six and Pansy's hatred for me grew to the extreme that she locked me outside during a thunderstorm. After that Pansy refused to allow me to sleep at her home anymore and my uncle was at a loss of what to do. Until Narcissa Malfoy stepped forward and offered to have me stay with them whenever it was necessary. She was my mother's best friend. Well, she and Narcissa's sister Andromeda, but we don't talk about her. Not since she married a muggleborn and disgraced herself. Family is so sensitive and fragile in pureblood households. One wrong step and I could lose my only family left.

Malfoy Manor was already familiar to me, as Narcissa frequently had me visit due to the fact she was my godmother. Ms. Malfoy had grown very fond of me from my visits. A lot of the time, especially when we were a bit older, the boys didn't want a girl playing their games and I spent the day with Ms. Malfoy. When I was very young she would let me play with her makeup and dress up in her beautiful gowns. She would read me fairy tales over tea and had their house elf, Dobby, clean up an old dollhouse from the attic. As I grew older, we would discuss books we had read over tea. Uncle said she was always very impressed with how polite I was. The legacy of the Vaile family name was alluring enough for Lucius to allow it despite his open feelings regarding my parent's mistakes. Besides, Uncle Jasper was his closest friend.

The confusing dynamic between my parental shame and the status of my family name was puzzling for Draco and the other pureblood children we hung out with. I was one of them but barely and they loved that power over me once we were old enough to understand it. For a long time, Draco and I were very close playing princess and knight or with all his toys. Every day was spent together. Daphne had Pansy, and I had Draco. He was my best friend. We would play family and even act like we would get married one day.

This is when Pansy started to dislike me. As we grew older and the games of pretend faded to a mere memory, Pansy and the others started to understand my blood traitor status. They would have me play hide and seek with them but never find me. More than once I waited in a bush or a tree until nightfall not wanting to accept their tricks. Sometimes they would have me play house elf and serve them. As the tricks became more and more frequent, my need to please and get approval grew more and more.


	2. Chapter One: Welcome to Hogwarts

I stood on the platform next to Daphne nervously playing with my fingers. Uncle Jasper scolded me for not following my etiquette lessons on how to present myself in public. My luggage trunks were new and spotless, with my initials in shimmering silver. I had gone with Ms. Malfoy and Draco to Diagon Alley over the summer for all the supplies I needed for school. It was a really fun time. Especially when we ended the day at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. As much as Narcissa loved spoiling Draco, he wasn't a little girl to pick out pretty dresses and hair ribbons for. I got a whole new wardrobe and my newest prized possession, my wand. Olivander was one of the people who didn't attempt to hide their curiosity over the claims my family has made over the centuries. He was extremely pleased when I was chosen by an English Oak wood wand with a Phoenix Feather core. Merlin was rumored to have an English Oak wand but it's never actually been verified. Personally and secretly, I was excited to receive a phoenix feather core since Uncle once let it slip that my father was one of the rare owners of a Phoenix. This excitement was kept to myself, though, I didn't want to make anyone upset.

"Ah, it's almost time, Girls," My uncle sighed in his typical reflective state wrapping an arm around each of our shoulders, "Best find the others before the train takes off. Tardiness is one of the worst traits to grow into."

"Father, please," Daphne frowned, shaking her father's arm from her shoulder hoping no one saw the display of affection. She spotted a familiar black haired girl coming our way and pranced to meet her. Leaving me and her father to watch her things. I leaned into his side and wrapped my arm tightly around him. The others said I wasn't going to be a Slytherin because Slytherin didn't want blood traitor offspring. If I didn't get into Slytherin, I don't know what my uncle would do. Fear of him shouting at me kept me quiet. Whatever would happen, it wouldn't be good.

"Ah, little Estelle," He hummed rubbing my shoulder, "No need to worry. You'll be all set up in the Slytherin dormitories before you even think about missing home."

"Slytherin. But what if-," My nervous fretting was cut off by a familiar figure greeting my uncle. It was Ms. Malfoy with Mr. Malfoy following shortly behind him. Draco must already be on the train. He could hardly wait to be at Hogwarts and wouldn't shut up about it last time I saw him. Ms. Malfoy started to fuss over my hair before collecting herself. I liked the affection. I wonder if my mother would be doing the same things right now if she were alive.

"Estelle," Daphne called walking up next to me with Pansy.

"Make yourself useful and go find us a spot on the train," Pansy sneered. Looking at my shoes, I nodded and quickly said goodbye to The Malfoy's and Uncle Jasper before boarding the train. With Pansy and Daphne's travel bags clunking around my shoulders. I didn't want to upset them and ruin the day when Daphne was being so nice to me already. But I never said no to them.

It took a minute but eventually, I found the compartment with Draco, my cousin Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise Zambinie. Draco's eyes glittered with his normal interest before he started to pick on me. He heard a rumor that my uncle had bribed Hogwarts to get me into Slytherin. So I wouldn't embarrass him any more than my parents did. Luckily, the excitement of starting school was more interesting to Draco and I was able to fade into the background as the train took off toward our destination. Pansy and Daphne found their way to the compartment giggling and gossiping about the older boys they saw on the way. Everyone was too excited to feel the need to pick on me for entertainment and left me to my robin's egg blue book on unicorns.

The girls all sat on one side, except Blaise who switched with Pansy. She always wanted to sit beside Draco. I can't remember a time when she didn't have a crush on the soon to be Slytherin Prince. Daphne always said she would find a beautiful French boy that bought her diamonds and gave her beautiful pureblood children. All the boys we grew up with were too foolish. I didn't know how to feel about them. When I was really little Draco and I pretended to be married but anytime his eyes fell on me I felt like a lamb in front of a lion. Draco did have random moments that surprised me when he showed me kindness, but there were always during the moments of us being alone. Like the evening after we got our wands, we ran around Malfoy Manor pretending to cast spells and duel each other. Draco would kill me if I ever told anyone about it. He was telling Goyle that his father had found him a breed of owl that was extremely large and rare. Apparently it was Malfoy tradition.

The long train ride was tranquil yet alive with the excitement of our new lives. Well, they were excited about picking their beds in the Slytherin dormitory. Daphne had even painted our nails matching emerald green in excitement for our new house last night. It was rare for her to show excitement under her icy facade. The boys had moved onto quidditch by the time we finished our beautifully packed lunches. I would have to thank our house elf, Poppi, when I came home for winter break. It always felt weird treating Poppi like a punching bag but I never stood up for her when she was being mistreated. Even still, she always had a gingerbread cookie and milk waiting beside my bed every night because I was kind to her.

"I wonder what the sorting will be," I spoke softly, making everyone turn to me. I didn't really speak much. I was the easiest target for them with my parents. Over the years it was best to just fade in the background. But it wasn't all bad. Just last week, the boys let me play quidditch at Malfoy Manor with them. Draco even told Pansy that I was a better player than her when she whined about it. Or this morning in the compartment whenever, the surprise, Pansy complimented the white silk ribbon tying back my long black hair into a half up, half down style.

"Uncle Jasper wouldn't tell us what it was," I pushed on hoping there would be a way to guarantee a place in Slytherin, "He says it's tradition for us to not know. Daphne thinks they are going to test our blood."

Daphne gave a disinterested shrug focusing more on her edition of French Witch Weekly magazine, "It would make sense. Quick and accurate. Generations of families all end up in the same house. It's the best option I can imagine."

"Blood?" Pansy squeaked, "I bet that's why my father wouldn't tell me! I don't want that loon Dumbledore cutting me up."

"I'm sure it would just be a prick, Pansy," Daphne chuckled as she always did when Pansy was being a drama queen. I'm surprised she found it so amusing when everything else annoyed her so much. Sometimes I think the only people she actually liked were Pansy, Blaise, and the people living at Greengrass Estate. Even some days her father, sister and I wouldn't make the cut. Daphne gave Pansy a soft tap on the knee with her magazine, "I doubt our parents would allow Dumbledore to actually harm us. Draco's father has been trying to have him replaced for years."

"He's right to," Draco nodded eager to speak of his father, "Almost sent me to Durmstrang because Hogwarts is so pathetic now. Mother wouldn't allow it."

"I heard they teach dark arts there," I said wrinkling my nose at it.

"Of course the daughter of a blood traitor would say that," Pansy rolled her eyes at me before turning to Draco with batting eyelashes, "I think Durmstrang sounds wonderful. Very mysterious."

"Don't act like a know-it-all, Parkinson," Blaise scoffed, "The Vaile Family taught at Durmstrang for centuries."

"Is that true?" Draco frowned at me.

"Yes. A lot of the Vaile were knowledgeable about the dark arts," I brushed a strand of hair behind my ears, "I think my grandfather went there but my father was homeschooled."

"Maybe if he wasn't homeschooled he wouldn't have been a dirty blood traitor," Pansy hissed with a wicked smile that deepened when my posture crumpled in on itself. Please can she just stop looking at me. When is this game going to get boring to them? If I get into Slytherin they wouldn't be able to make fun of me anymore, would they?

I looked at the carpeted floor at her jab. Crabbe had stomped a chocolate frog into the carpet making a long brown smear. He found it very entertaining to crush them when they jumped up. I think he started doing it when he was really little. There are vivid memories burned into my brain of him stomping dozens of chocolate frogs into his carpet one birthday. Once he even made his house elf lick it up. To say the least, I wasn't very close to my male cousin.

Thankfully, she didn't get everyone else involved as she has done before. Pansy had an older sister who was a sixth year that she learned most of her catty behavior from. Primavera Parkinson was everything her little sister wanted to be. I'm sure she had read all about fluttering, flirtatious eyelashes in one of her sisters magazines. She sometimes brought those to our home but as an eleven year old who hadn't grown into her nose yet, she just looked ridiculous. I couldn't be one to talk though as my chubby cheeks overwhelmed my face with baby fat and my big lips looked too plump for my face. Draco must have agreed because he didn't respond and steered the direction of the conversation back on track, "Father didn't tell me either. I doubt it's difficult. I mean just look at the slime that oaf lets in here. There is a reason Durmstrang doesn't accept muggleborns."

"Stupid Mudbloods," Crabbe agreed mouth full of candy.

"If you speak with your mouth full one more time, I'll make sure you'll never speak again," Blaise curled his lip up in disgust speaking up for the first time in a while. Crabbe threw an empty box of every flavor beans at his head but Blaise swatted it away with his book before he got the chance to hit him. Blaise looked ready to kick his teeth in but just returned back to his book after a few tense seconds. Crabbe was twice his size after all. I'm sure Blaise already knows a few good spells though.

"Those Mudbloods will be a good laugh in class. I swear my house elf is smarter than most muggleborns," Pansy flicked her hair over her shoulder, "At least Slytherin is still exclusive. Don't know what I would do if I had to sleep next to one."

"That's why I think they are testing our blood. I've never heard of a muggleborn Slytherin," Daphne smirked without looking up from her magazine cocking an eyebrow upwards. The slur they used always made me feel so uncomfortable. I tried to understand why blood mattered so much but there were so many great wizards who had muggle parents. They can live in both worlds. I wouldn't know the first thing to do if I had to live in the muggle world. It's kind of fascinating how well they get on without magic. Daphne said using slurs and cursing was unladylike, which is something Uncle Jasper felt strongly about. He still said them but as ladies, we should never say such filth.

"Seems like all of our parents agreed to keep the tradition of it being a surprise." I frowned feeling anxious at how much I struggled to fit in with my friends, "Shouldn't be surprised with how much Uncle Jasper loves tradition."

"If he could live a hundred years ago, I think he would," Daphne rolled her eyes, making me giggle in agreement. Uncle Jasper was constantly trying to learn more and more about the lost cultures of magic. Maybe if things had been different, he could have been friends with my father. His study is filled with huge towers of dusty tombs. One of the reasons he was so close with my mother is because of their shared fascination with lost magic. But it's also the reason why he 'lost' my mother to my father. It fascinates him to the point that sometimes he babbles on like a dazed professor. For him, there is powerful, lost magic to be understood in the mysteries of the past. One of the reasons he believes in blood purity so much is because he thinks it is diluting the potency of potential in the community. In the early days of Earth, magic was a rare and honored thing to have passed down through bloodlines for a reason. The more we blend with the muggle world, the more we lose our heritage. I guess this is the only reason that makes sense to me on why blood purity matters so much. I still don't see why so many people have lost their lives over it. Especially my parents.

As they joked about more and more ridiculous ways on how we would be sorted, my forehead rested against the cool glass of the window and watched the rolling emerald hills and untouched nature pass by. I loved being outside. There were many times where my family would find me nestled in the garden damp with the dew of the grass in the mornings. It's been a few years since I've slept-walked to the garden because of the potion Uncle Jasper commissioned for me to drink before bed. Something inside me just craves the feeling of grass under my bare feet and fresh air filling my lungs. Even in winter, it was easiest to find me wandering the grounds of the estate or tending to the greenhouse I've more or less taken over. Luckily I was able to teach Poppi how to keep the more complicated plants alive for when I was away. Astoria and I were able to convince Uncle Jasper to commission a small barn. The Malfoy's had aviary and albino peacocks, so why couldn't we? Weren't the Greengrass family just as rich? It worked like a charm. Nothing fills my heart more than connecting with living things outside of humanity. The simplicity and lack of social complexities blanket me in serenity. Hopefully, once I learn more about magical creatures in my third year we can fill it with more and more complex creatures.

I miss Greengrass Estate already and we hadn't even gotten to school yet. It's home. Saying goodbye to little Astoria, Poppi and the greenhouse was hard. Daphne scoffed when I cried saying goodbye to the animals in the barn. She rarely went near it due to the smell. On the platform, Uncle Jasper worried over us like a single father would; hoping everything had been bought and packed that we would need. His hugs were so warm and I didn't feel embarrassed like Daphne did, having her father show that he cared for us publicly. I guess that's the orphan in me coming out. He said he would be there for his two new Slytherin girls when we came back for Christmas break.

As the sun began to set and we grew closer to the destination, the words on the pages of my book seemed to stretch on forever. My mind was racing with ideas about my placement. None of them felt right. There was nothing cunning or prideful about me that could get me into Slytherin. The number of tricks and pranks I fell for was pathetic. I was always following the others and never made a grand ambitious suggestion. My mind struggled to focus on anything I didn't find interest in. I doubt I was smart enough to get into Ravenclaw. I wasn't hard-working enough or just enough to get into Hufflepuff. Gryffindor was nearly impossible. I'm the biggest coward I know. I guess I was pretty impulsive. What if I wasn't good enough for any house?

We changed into our robes in the bathrooms and I helped Daphne fix her braid that got a few fly-aways from changing into her robes. Jealousy washed over me when I looked at her. She was already so beautiful at eleven. Her long silky blonde hair and light green eyes just made her features already more beautiful. Apparently I took more after my father's genes than my mother's Greengrass traits.

My heart started to pulse as the train slowed to a stop and I caught Draco's eyes. His expression was unreadable but he didn't break eye contact. It was as if he could smell my fear. Suddenly, his expression broke into a cocky smirk.

"Nervous, Estelle?" He teased in a singing tone before turning to everyone else before I had a chance to respond and stood, "Hogwarts is waiting."

—————————————————————————————————

We had followed the huge man through the twist and turns of the unfamiliar castle that was to be our second home for the next seven years. The small bundle of family-friends had stuck together with the most dominant personalities at the lead, Pansy and Draco. I knew my place was at the back, and they never let me forget it.

Blood Purists like the families I was raised around learned to stick up their noses at even the slightest inferiority before they can walk. My cousin Daphne Greengrass reminded me that this was the moment I could prove to everyone I belonged to this community and remove the stain on their family for raising a blood traitor offspring. My other cousin, Crabbe, quickly laughed and said I was so pathetic and that I'd be lucky to get Hufflepuff. Which was rich coming from a guy as thick as him. Growing up alongside the heirs to the regal Greengrass estate had given me the lessons and opportunities to master the art of hiding my emotions behind an elegant facade. Etiquette lessons was the one place my family couldn't deny I excelled in compared to my cousins. I had to be, or else I would be compared to my father. But when I acted like the perfect Greengrass lady, they would compare me to my mother. I didn't have a choice but to master being a growing lady. Well, I could fly a bit better than Daphne but that doesn't count for much when you're rubbish at quidditch. Daphne couldn't keep her constant annoyance from showing, since she was already considered the ice queen at such a young age.

However, I could feel my elegant facade cracking and crumbling with each step up the countless stone stairways. The towering man noticed my growing tension and offered me an encouraging smile which I softly returned out of politeness. He seemed a bit surprised by my response when the group around me gave him that familiar look of disgust.

Crabbe and Goyle made it clear to the people who weren't already giving us a mixed reception of fear or contempt, which was the muggle borns, that the little pureblood children were not to be messed with as they pushed anyone that ventured in our path off to the side. By the time we reached the intimidating colossal wooden doors, we were leading the group of incoming first years and my stomach felt like it was filled with angry Cornish Pixies. The dull buzz of the student body was leaking out from behind the doors in a muffled hum. If I don't get into Slytherin everything everyone made fun of me would be true and if I did get in, maybe they would finally let me be their friend. I was too scared to ask my Uncle Jasper what would happen if I did get into one of the bad houses but I can only assume that I would have to make a shelter in the garden out of twigs and mud. I'd probably have to eat bugs and gross mushrooms too. At least Pansy would be happy to have me out of her sight.

Draco was excited. His pale cheeks flushed a light pink. There was a rumor going around that Harry Potter was on the train. Nothing like a household legend to excite a whole school of kids still reeling from exclusively eating candy from the candy trolly for lunch. Well, if you had the money to buy enough. His silver eyes were scanning the thickening crowd for the boy with the lightning scar on his forehead. I guess the fame of his legend is enough to overlook parents who died opposing someone their parents supported. Maybe I should do something to get famous and they will let me have a day of peace to garden or play with my pets.

The real element of this situation that was making me feel nauseated was the stern looking woman in emerald robes and a neat bun. She looked at all the excited and nervous first years with an unreadable expression. Well, that's not entirely true. You could tell she would not be tolerating any mischief. She waited patiently for the stragglers at the back to catch up, a few were victims of the pushing by the brute squad, to address everyone leaving us to sit in anticipated silence.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," She clapped her hands to silence the whispering before continuing on, "Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats you must be sorted into your houses."

My stomach dropped at the sudden sorting and unfortunately made eye contact with Draco. His antagonistic smirk made it clear he hadn't forgotten about the unexpected conversation we had about my fears of where I would end up. Even if he was nice about it at the time, it was a mistake.

"They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Now, while you are here, your house will be like your family," She listed off as my skin pricked with cold sweat on the back of my neck. I wonder where my parents would have wanted me to make a family. My mom was Ravenclaw but my father didn't even have a house. According to the legend of my ancestors, Merlin was in Slytherin. I'm not too sure what house Nimue was or if she even went to Hogwarts. I guess Ravenclaw wouldn't be a bad second pick, but I can't imagine what would happen if I ended up in Gryffindor. Good thing I'm not particularly brave. No need to worry about that.

"Your triumphs will earn you house points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup-," McGonagall explained but was cut off by a red faced boy's cry of relief.

"Trevor!" He cried as he scooped up a large toad off the ground. The people around me snickered as Pansy loudly whispered a catty, 'Ew.' I felt sorry for him as he got the stern look of the woman. She frowned at us saying the sorting ceremony would begin shortly before walking away to prepare for it in some way. I wonder what it was. Daphne and I thought that we were going to have to cut our hands and have them test the quality of our blood. Or get forced to drink a truth potion. Draco let out a pleased hum as he sauntered to the front of the crowd in front of a skinny looking boy with cheap looking glasses standing beside, presumably, a Weasley boy. Everyone's heads turned to Draco as he spoke up, "It's true then. What they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

The crowd burst into whispers making Daphne mutter to me coldly, "As if it's unexpected. He's the same age as us. Hardly a big deal."

"Draco always has had a flair for the dramatics," I joked back which made Pansy pause her focus on Draco long enough to send me a death glare. She hated that someone she disliked as much as me was as close to Draco and Daphne as I was.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle," Malfoy nodded to the large boys behind him before holding out his hand, "And I'm Draco Malfoy."

I tried not to show my amusement when the Weasley boy beside Potter snickered, but Draco made no attempt to show his offense, "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair, and a hand me down robe? You must be a Weasley. You'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. Don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself thanks," Harry gave Draco a blank stare and made no move to shake his extended hand. I felt my jaw drop in surprise. The only person I've ever seen put Draco in his place was his father. If anyone needs to be humbled, it's that spoiled brat. I had to bite my lip to stop from gleefully laughing at him as right after the first rejection from Potter McGonagall used a rolled up scroll to swat his shoulder for being out of place and causing a scene. Hogwarts is going to be good for him, I think.

Theodore Nott caught my eye and shared a similar expression. Besides his father, Theodore was the only person who could stand up to Draco's wishes and whims but he rarely cared enough to actually put in the effort. He was the nicest to me, probably because he was obsessed with everything Daphne. I was always a bit jealous of how little he cared about friendship and the way he was content on his own.

"Follow me now," McGonagall ordered, allowing us to get into two single file lines before turning and letting the heavy wooden doors open with a whoosh. I stood beside Blaise Zabini, who I caught discreetly checking his appearance in a small mirror hidden in his pocket. Draco stood beside Theodore, with Crabbe and Goyle behind followed by Pansy and Daphne. Blaise and I were at the back and he quickly picked up on my nerves which he clearly found irritating. The sound of the older students in the hall quieted as the first pair entered the room.

My breath caught in my throat as I got my first look at the famous Great Hall, and I couldn't contain my bubbling glee regardless if Uncle Jasper described it for us a thousand times as kids. Astoria was going to adore this. There were four long wooden tables stretching the length of the large chamber with flags and colored ties giving away the identity of the house. The ceiling looked to stretch endlessly into a clear starry sky with floating candles offering light from above. It was like a midsummer castle in a Shakespearian play. The impressed wonder of my fellow first years created a buzz. Pansy, with no attempt to quiet her voice, sneered at the excited classmates and scoffed to Daphne, sarcastically, "Wonder which ones are muggle born."

"I know. It's not even real. It's just an enchantment," Daphne responded in her typical icy tone. Merlin forbid anyone to enjoy themselves or be impressed by the celestial ceiling that puts the Sistine Chapel to shame. McGonagall led us to the front of the room where a stool sat with a threadbare hat was placed. Suddenly, the hat twitched and a rip appeared along the brim and the fabric scrunched up to make a face. The grumpy, aged hat suddenly began to sing.

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your black,

Your sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in ,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in ,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old ,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

Before I even could process what I had just seen, Pansy shuttered dramatically, "I am not putting that moldy thing on my head."

Any wonder and awe I felt from the ceiling or the hat was instantly sucked out of my heart as I heard the winey complaint from Pansy. It's so hard to enjoy anything when everyone around you just wants to hate on everything. If this hat is going to ruin my life I should at least have some fun with it. Oh god, my whole life is about to change. My hand flew to my stomach as my mind reeled with all the possibilities of change. It could really go either way. Everything could be smooth sailing if I prove myself, but the small shred of the family I have left is on the line. Thankfully I wouldn't be going first with my last name of Vaile.

"Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words," McGonagall explained as the old, mystical looking man rose from the headmaster's chair. His long beard and half-moon glasses looked just like they did on the chocolate frog card. The only good things I've ever heard about him are from books. The adults I know don't have the nicest things to say about him. Uncle Jasper will occasionally mention his respect for him as a wizard but even that's rare.

"I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce. The first years please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the 3rd-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you," Dumbledore addressed us, making me let out a huff of disbelief. Is this a joke? Do they always scare the first years like this? Blaise muttered about his insanity under his breath but my mind was too hung up on the painful death comment to really start a banter.

"When I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses. Abbott, Hannah," McGonagall directed and a small, mousy blonde girl made her way to the seat. The hat was placed on her head and the hall grew silent to hear the first placement. Suddenly the silence was killed by the Sorting Hat bellowing out, "Hufflepuff!"

The table decorated with the Hufflepuff yellow let out joyful cheers and happily welcomed her to their house. This continued on for a while before Millicent Bulstrode became the first Slytherin. Blaise told me she was a half-blood paired with some pretty nasty comments about her looks. The time of deciding tended to vary but it only took a few seconds to decide to make the unsorted first years before me became more and more sparse. One by one, starting with Crabbe, our little group was sent over to the table of emerald snakes. Daphne even gave me a nod of determination before walking over. I wish I could be as certain as her that heritage plays a large part in the decision. I hope it doesn't. Draco was one of the quickest and unsurprisingly was sent to Slytherin. Please Merlin, just let me get into Slytherin.

When Harry Potter was called, the entire hall went silent. Everyone obviously wanted the Boy Who Lived in their house. The hat seemed to toy with the impatient students and stayed silent for a while. I was about to ask if he broke the hat before it bellowed out, "Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor table burst into the loudest cheers yet and the red-headed twins started chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter! We got Potter!" It was only when Dumbledore raised his wrinkled hand that the crowd calmed and McGonagall resumed with her list. The remaining first years were so few that Blaise was on my right and the young Weasley was on my left. Occasionally, I caught him wrinkle his nose at me and glaring but I forced myself to ignore it. My mind was struggling to focus on counting inside my head. It was the only thing keeping my feet from whisking me out of the wooden doors and becoming a hermit in the Forbidden Forest.

All too soon, McGonagall looked down at me and said, "Vaile, Estelle."

"Slytherin, no doubt," Weasley muttered beside me with a scowl. The etiquette classes that have been burned into my brain took over and I, as much as I could muster, walked up with grace. I sat on the bench and caught Daphne's interested look before the worn hat fell over my eyes. The pounding of my heart in my head kept me from realizing for a moment the hat was silent and had made no rapid decision like the others. My folded palms tensed as the silence stretched out in a way that rivaled Harry Potter's. Whispers started to rise from beyond the hat and I could make out people telling their friends about my family and our foolish ancestral claims. Or maybe they were talking about how normally Vaile children go to Durmstrang to learn dark magic like our Matriarch Nimue utilized. Or the family members that had become famous doing both good and wicked deeds throughout the centuries. Typically, the name Vaile gets the same response as families like the Malfoys or Blacks.

"Did I break it?" I whispered to myself. The voice of the Sorting Hat broke the silence by giving a thoughtful hum. He seemed to be curiously sorting through my head. 

"So many layers to consider," He drawled and I closed my eyes tightly to keep in my tears of stress, "It has been a while since I've sorted anyone from your bloodline. I remember the first one. And druid blood? How peculiar. I believed your kind became extinct. Hm, perhaps Hufflepuff to help your connection to nature grow. I see plenty of kindness here too. So many possibilities to consider."

The crowd of students and teachers had evolved from curious whispers to confused tones. It was a hat stall. I read about these. They are rare but they happen if it takes more than five minutes to sort a child. I dug my nails into my palms and whispered hoping McGonagall couldn't hear, "You don't understand I have to be in Slytherin. I'm not special."

"I am not the one who misunderstands," He combated and hummed once more, "Yes. That would work. You will need to learn bravery to embrace yourself, Child of Albion."

"Albion?" I muttered in disbelief before my eyes snapped open in realization, "No-."

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat bellowed out and for the first time, the decision wasn't met with an instant cheer. Word must have spread to the Gryffindor's of my Slytherin upbringing and household. I was partially raised by the infamous Malfoy family after all. The hat was lifted from my head and I refused to look up. McGonagall gave me a gentle nudge and shot a stern look at her house. As I made my way to the table a polite cheer greeted me that was mostly drowned out by the rapid growth of whispers. Most people were simply confused why it took so long but a few people shared their surprise seeing as I was the only person in our group that didn't get sorting into Slytherin. My mind was far away from all of that though. I wonder when my Uncle would get word of this. Or worse, my Aunt Fiona who openly shared her dislike of her blood traitor twin and hatred of my father. How long until I'm disowned?

When I sat at the table, I found myself sitting next to the school celebrity who offered a friendly greeting, unaware of the unspoken shock I was in after being sorted into the rival house of my family. My mind was too hazy with emotions and confusion from the words of The Sorting Hat to support a conversation. So I just gave a weak nod and stared at my hands in my lap. Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor and filled the awkward tension with happy cheers as his family celebrated their little brother joining their house.

Gathering my strength, I found it in me to see if Daphne was angry. My heart stopped when I realized she was staring at me with the coldest glare while discussing my betrayal with the others who openly stared at me. There was no warmth in her gaze and she broke our eye contact to say something to Theodore. Pansy looked pleased, as I expected she might.

Daphne looked stunning in her house colors. She was a Greengrass through and through. The pureblood's belief that pureblood bred attractive offspring was supported in young Daphne. Greengrass members were all either very light, golden blonde, or a medium brunette. With hair that was as light as Draco's but in a warmer tone, Daphne looked more like her father than my mother or Astoria. All of the other Greengrass traits were on her face. Oval face, small lips, thin, straight eyebrows, eyelashes and hair, green eyes, and peachy skin. Her height and skinny build made her look older and prettier then she was. I was always jealous of her but everyone was. It wasn't fair that she was beautiful, like my own mother was, and a Slytherin. She got everything.

My life's over. How could I even go home now? My aunt didn't even want to look after me already and my Uncle Jasper has enough on his plate as a single father of two daughters, and a full-time ministry job. Astoria was going to have a short life with a lot of time spent at hospitals. She was the sweetest of all the Greengrass family. But they were all the family I had left. They took me in when I had no one left as a baby; gave me a home, fed me. I always wanted to show them I could really be like one of their daughters but, what am I now but a reflection of my embarrassment of a father? They never had anything kind to say about him. Ever, in my whole life, there were always horrible ruthless things said about him. Honestly, it makes me feel shameful that I miss my parents so much. Maybe my mother and father could have been proud of my placement. If they threw me out on the street I could at least depend on the Vaile vault as the only remaining heir. Can an eleven-year-old even buy a place to live? How do you even do that?

The feast passed on around me like a bubble had separated me from it. The perfectly polished plate remained empty but the idea of food made my stomach twist. Occasionally, I used the cloth napkin to hide the tears I wasn't able to stop. Once the tears were gone off my cheek but before I could blink more came. I'm sure the people around me were just nice enough to pretend not to notice. A few hours at Hogwarts and everyone already thinks I'm a freak from how long the hat took to sort me.

Surely an old hat like that has made a mistake every now and then! I need to talk to Dumbledore and tell him that his Sorting Hat is on the fritz. Maybe tomorrow after class. I already am a spectacle right now, it would be best to wait.

When we returned to the dormitories, my curtains on my bed were drawn before the last girl even made it in the room. Lavender Brown didn't attempt to quiet her judgments but I was just glad no one could see me sob into my pillow. Everyone I grew up with now sees me as someone in their rival house; an enemy. Everyone else in my house just thinks I'm a stuck up brat.

Slowly, the girls quieted their chattering excitements and gossiping and went to sleep one by one. For me, sleep was hard to find. My mind whirled with thoughts about my family. It was just a few hours ago but I longed for the train ride here. Some part of me knew that a change was brewing in the distance, but it was so bittersweet.

But now, Uncle Jasper was welcoming back a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. Uncle Jasper said Gryffindors was a house filled with idiots thriving from impulse and the need for attention. Aunt Fiona's remarks of disapproval were much more colorful and pretty much always led back to my father.

I thought to the Malfoy family who would no doubt disown me the moment Draco wrote to them. Another person I had lost. Part of me hated Draco but there was another huge part of me that was under the influence of being raised alongside him. He and Daphne were my closest friends when I woke up this morning, but now. They hated me. Draco and I's relationship was complicated but it was still a friendship. I think. I thought back to the summer days spent racing Draco on brooms and playing piano together. It was this past summer while Astoria was receiving treatment in France. Whatever skill I had in flying was taken from my ability to play quidditch, so we mostly just raced. Ms. Malfoy even used her magic to set up obstacle courses. Draco always beat me, but that's how he wanted it to be anyway.

Of course, he was still extremely rude but each day the comments seemed to lessen until we started having actual conversations. The one on one conversations we had shown a side to Draco I missed, which was still pratty but also intelligent, thoughtful, and witty. We talked about everything from sweets to the war, which ended with him making me cry but the conversation was mostly good. Since then, he actually involved me in the social interactions and kept the commentary to a minimum and would even show glimpses of friendship if we were alone. But after tonight's sorting, he sent me the nastiest glare with so much disgust pulling at his features. If there was one thing Draco was clear about it, was his disgust towards Gryffindors. Just like his dad. His hero.

Even if it was a secret, my friendship with Draco was one of the only ones I had. Then in the blink of an eye, we weren't. I think there was a lot lost in that moment. I just know that my Uncle's going to kill me because of this. Daphne is going to erase me from her mind. Little Astoria won't know what to do and will just copy her sister like she always does. With each realization of another thing lost, my tears grew stronger. Everything inside me wanted to go outside and out of this suffocating castle but I didn't even know how to get outside.

This can't be real. There was a huge mistake. Sleep eventually found me as I thought of all the ways I could explain to the headmaster this was all a mistake and fix it before my Uncle even found out. There had to be a way out of this. I wasn't going to just let a hat ruin everything I have.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning I was dressed before my housemates had woken up thanks to the opal and silver wristwatch my uncle gifted me. The watch would vibrate and give you light magical zaps to wake you at whatever time you set it at. It was beautiful against the paleness of my wrist. It even matched my holster for my wand on my hip. It reminded me of the silvery hue of moonlight against freshly fallen snow in the thick of winter.

It was a relief none of the other girls saw how much simply putting on the uniform made me tear up. I couldn't even tie my hair using the silk emerald ribbon I got in mind to match my uniform. Low pigtails replaced my usual half up hairdo as there was no ribbon to match the deep red of the robe's lining and tie. Even the green nail polish felt humiliating. I used the tips of my fingers to painfully pick it off, making my nails look scratched and scuffed. Everything in my trunk was screaming failure at me.

I remembered how beautiful Daphne looked as a Slytherin intrusively. The Gryffindor uniform looked like it was about to slide from my body in subconscious rejection. I still looked like myself but it felt like an illusion made from false nightmares. My thick black hair was still dark with my waves framing my face in layers. Daphne had gotten me a hair potion for my birthday that turned my messy waves into loose curls. It made me feel more beautiful like she was. My blue eyes were the only thing that I had that was better than Daphne. The darkness of my hair and the fairness of my skin made the deepness of my eyes shine with vibrance. The collared neckline of the uniform makes my chubby cheeks even more pronounced. I hope that goes away as I grow up. The stubbiness of my short legs were covered by my long robe that was hemmed to prevent any embarrassing tripping. I felt hideous in the Hogwarts Gryffindor uniform.

I couldn't have gotten out of the Gryffindor Tower quick enough. The warmth and overwhelming amount of red sent my head into more spins. I hardly gave myself a chance to look at it before I rushed out the portrait hole. Despite my growling stomach due to my refusal to eat during my shock the night before, I avoided the Great Hall for breakfast. I managed to catch the prefect on his way to hand out timetables. Seeing my cousins and old friends would be too difficult right now and if they got the chance I know they thought of some great insults to say in their common room they couldn't wait to use. I should be with them, in that common room. Quietly listening to their banter braiding Daphne's hair or reading a book.

The halls were quiet at this time, especially with it being the first day back to school after summer break. Luckily, I ran across a kind Ravenclaw in her fifth year that personally brought me to the transfiguration's classroom when I only asked for directions. She said everyone was a first year at one point and she didn't mind when I repeatedly thanked her for going out of her way. It took awhile for the other student's to show up, and I was just happy we didn't have this class with Slytherins. According to the schedule, we only have potions and flying with the Slytherins. Maybe I could avoid everyone until after I got this sorted out.

The first person to arrive was a bushy haired girl I remember seeing at the feast last night. She could use some of that hair potion I have in the dorm with hair like that. I think she was in the bed to my right. She looked surprised that someone had beaten her to the classroom and sat down right next to me despite the entire classroom of empty chairs.

"I see I wasn't the only person excited to start lessons. I've already memorized all the course books. I was surprised I was even able to fall asleep last night," She smiled holding her hand out, "I'm Hermione Granger. Estelle Vaile, if I recall correctly?"

I nodded and felt guilty that I immediately thought about if Granger was pureblood or not. She must have been a muggleborn or halfblooded at best. I shook her hand and smiled politely, "Already read all the course books? I bet these classes will be no problem for you then."

"Well, I hope. My parents are muggles, dentists actually, and I wanted to prepare as much as possible. I have notes on everything if you want to take a look," Hermione smiled, looking around the room in excited wonder, "It's all so thrilling."

"Dentist?" I blinked confused after a moment of uncertainty. I'd never even spoken to a muggleborn before this and she was nothing like the stereotype the people I knew described. Uncle Jasper said muggleborns didn't bother learning about the world they chanced upon and drowned out our heritage but Hermione seemed eager to learn everything she could.

She blushed at my question and shifted uncomfortably. The discomfort my question brought made me feel like my skin was crawling. It felt like she could read my mind and knew about all the horrible things I've been told about muggleborns. Does she even know about the slurs yet?

"They tend to people's teeth," She explained carefully as if she had no idea how to explain it and I nodded thoughtfully. I guess muggles didn't have potions and spells to deal with that sort of thing. Her front teeth were kind of large. Magical parents charm babies when they are teething to have perfect teeth.

"What class are you most excited for?" I asked politely having setting off the girl next to me in a long monologue on all the interesting things she had read about in our books. Normally it might have been annoying to have your ear talked off but it was a nice distraction from everything going on in my head. I told her I was most excited for charms and herbology then told her about my greenhouse back home.

The moment McGonagall walked in Hermione completely stopped talking and began to write notes furiously beside me. She lectured us about the responsibility and dangers of transfiguration and the behavior she expected from us. Excitingly enough, she showed off her ability of being an animagus while we took notes on turning a match into a needle. The pain that rose in my chest when I thought back to the times I pretended to be animagus with my old friends and cousins as young children. My family used to be able to produce wizards with the ability to be metamphoragus but it's been so long since one I wonder if it was even true. Sometimes when I was angry as a baby, my hair would tighten it's curls but I don't think that's anything to be impressed with. It was just accidental magic. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley showed up late and were scolded by the stern professor but other than that nothing extremely interesting happened in class. No one was able to turn their match into a needle but Hermione actually managed to turn hers silver. How could the most talented student in the class be muggleborn? It didn't make any sense. Uncle Jasper said muggleborns dilute the potency of magical possibilities.

When the class came to a close I stayed behind, despite Hermione asking to walk with me to our next class in an hour, and waited for the room to clear out. I'm glad I had an excuse not to be seen with a muggleborn so quickly after being sorted. If I wanted any chance of not being branded as a traitor I needed to distance myself from anything risky. McGonagall noticed the way I stood with uncertainty in front of her desk and as the last student left the room, she looked up and frowned at me, "Ms. Vaile, is there something you would like to discuss with me?"

"If this isn't a bad time," I nodded politely hoping she wouldn't turn me away. Hopefully she could bring me to Dumbledore.

"Not at the moment. What would you like to discuss?" She asked putting down her quill to put her entire focus on one of the student's in her house.

"I just," I started trailing off struggling to find the right words, "The sorting- I think- Well, I'm pretty sure-."

"Ms. Vaile, if you think there was a mistake in your placement, I'll let you know that you are not the first person to think their placement was incorrect in the beginning but the Sorting Hat has never once made a mistake. It was created solely for this individual purpose by the founder's themselves," McGonagall explained to me firmly but in a gentle tone.

"It took so long. I wasn't sure if it knew where to place me. It said so itself. Maybe the hat just ended up guessing," I explained trying to remain calm at the finality in her tone. Her eyebrows raised slightly and folded her hands on her desk.

"Ms. Vaile, while that is unusual that does not change the fact you are in Gryffindor. I was a hat stall myself. I can assure you that there was not a mistake," She nodded gently, "The headmaster would tell you the same. There has never once been a resorting in the history of Hogwarts. He is a very busy man and does not have the time to address every single worry of the student body."

"But," I stammered weakly, feeling my lip quiver embarrassingly, "Will you at least tell him about the way it wasn't sure?"

"Yes, I can do that. I would advise you not to get your hopes up about it," The woman agreed before pausing for a moment finally speaking again with a gentler ton, "You are not the first student that was sorted into Gryffindor that came from a Slytherin household and expressed concern. As your head of house I'd like to remind you that one of my jobs is to help my student's with any issue they might face including one's of a personal nature. If your family responds poorly to this news it would be good to remember you do not have to handle it on your own. Hogwarts looks after it's students."

"Thank you, Professor," I smiled softly, blinking away my tears quickly and looking down at my shoes, "I think I should head to charms now. I don't want to be late for the first day. Have a nice day."

The rest of the day was spent in Charms and Herbology. Charms were particularly difficult as all of life seemed sucked out of me. Since it was the very first day none of the professors really tried or expected real magic from us. We just discussed the nature of charms. There was nothing in me that could produce a spark of magic right now if I tried. The only thing that brought me a sense of calming, was the warmth of my wand against my clammy fingers. It's like it knew that I was upset. Luckily, the talkative Muggleborn girl was able to distract me between classes enough that I didn't burst into tears at a random moment. Herbology was the best part of the day. Professor Sprout even gave Gryffindor a few points when I knew the answer to her question, which Hermione grilled me about after class because it wasn't in the textbook. She sped off to the library after I told her the book I read it in.

Eating dinner in the Great Hall was the hardest part because I could feel my old friends glaring daggers into my back. I could tell Hermione was wanting to ask what was going on between us but had the decency to not pry. Everything in me wanted to ask her to get away from me before the Slytherin's realized what I had done. It felt too wrong to be mean to her for no reason. Well, one reason that I didn't even really understand fully. I can't wait for my family to find out that not only was I sorted into Gryffindor but I also am friendly with a Muggleborn. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day I avoided walking to potions with Hermione, who I could tell was upset by it. Because I didn't want to give the Slytherin's anything more to write home about after last night's dinner. I was surprised I hadn't gotten a howler from anyone yet screaming at me but in a weird way, the silence hurt worse. The lack of howler made sense. They wouldn't want to cause a scene so publicly. It was like I had become a ghost to everyone I've ever known. No one in Gryffindor but Hermione really spoke to me. By now they had all found out that I grew up close with the person everyone in our house has quickly grown to despise, Draco Malfoy, and the rest of the Slytherin elite. The privilege of my life oozed out in thick waves from the possessions I so casually possessed like my handmade shoes or the opal embossed watch and wand set. The metal of the trunk at the foot of my bed was real silver and my toiletries were all stored in handblown glass vials. Everything in my possession screamed entitled brat that should be in Slytherin.

Ron Weasley wasn't very good at whispering about me either. He was telling Harry I was raised by You-Know-Who's followers, which wasn't even wrong, but it made Harry avoid me as well. I wonder if he even knows my parents died for the same reason as his. Barely anyone did actually. The word of my parents refusal to work alongside the Dark Lord was kept hush by my mother's world as they were the ones who captured them. My father was a bit of a loner and I've never met anyone who was ever close to him. He had no childhood friends because of homeschooling. It just seemed like my parents were another unfortunate casualty of the war. Besides, both came from a long line of dark wizards. It would be unrealistic for anyone to assume they were blood traitors. The only reason my family took me in as a baby was because true purebloods were becoming rarer and rarer in this age. With all the intermarriage, they couldn't afford to lose a baby they could teach to uphold their ideologies. Especially one from the infamous Vaile family.

The idea of potions with the Slytherins made me feel faint. I made sure to show up right before the class started and sat in the only empty chair beside Hermione in the front row. The moment I entered the room snickers started growing from the other side of the room but I just tried to keep my head down. Someone even threw a ball of parchment at my head. I'm sure something horrible was written in it but moving to see would remind them I was there. Maybe they would forget I even existed if I didn't do anything noteworthy.

"Just ignore them," Hermione whispered at me glaring at the emerald clad first years placing a hand on my shoulder. Surprise and warmth blossomed in my chest at the willingness she was showing to defend me. Daphne never tried to defend me from the others. Focusing on the table even harder than before, I struggled with how to respond to her gesture. The door burst open before I even had a chance to think about how the only person on my side was someone I was raised to look down on. A tall man with long, greasy black hair stalked his way to the front with his dark robes swirling around him dramatically. I had met this man at the Malfoy Manor before. Professor Snape.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to enjoy the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making," He drawled finally at the front of the class and glancing at Draco when he spoke next, "However, for those select few who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

My nose wrinkled at captivation in Draco's eyes. Snape's eyes fell to Harry, who was eagerly taking notes on everything he said and curled his pale lips.

"Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not...pay...attention," He snarled down to Harry who was unaware of the negative attention until Hermione elbowed him. Like the snap of a whip, Harry put down the quill and looked up at the man nervously. The look in Snape's eyes was enriched by the clear hatred heating his tone. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat wishing the tension between them would move on. He was just taking notes after all.

"Mr. Potter. Our...new...celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape glowered down at him. Harry looked as clueless as I felt while Hermione shot her hand clearly not understanding the situation. I wanted to grab her hand and tell her to stop but the idea of attention froze all the muscles in my body. Harry shook his head at a loss for response and Snape sneered again, "You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

"I don't know, Sir," Harry frowned, clearly uncomfortable. Hermione's hand raised higher in urgency. This wasn't fair, why is he doing this?

"And what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?" Snape drilled him once more and I frowned knowing this one. My ears picked up on the snickering from the Slytherin side of the room. If it was the way Harry didn't know the information or the way Hermione was practically jumping at the professor to try and get his attention, I didn't know but it could be either one.

"I don't know sir." Harry repeated looking defeated and overwhelmed. I felt sorry for him and wondered when Snape was just going to give it up. He embarrassed him enough.

"Pity. Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?" Snape glowered down at the famous boy pleased at the result of his pop quiz. It really set the tone for the rest of the class. I had to bite my tongue when he made everyone look at the way Draco stewed his horn slugs when I had clearly done it better. Potions just made sense to me. It felt like a really complex puzzle with all the different properties of the ingredients. Hermione was my partner and was starting to irritate me with the way she tried to boss me around when I knew what I was doing. Maybe Uncle was right about muggleborns. I wasn't good at things like Transfigurations or Astronomy but Potions just clicked. Despite my potion being one of the best in the class, Snape did not hide his dislike of the Gryffindor students. Especially considering Seamus and Neville melted their cauldron spilling their potion and burning the bottom of people's shoes off. Neville ended up spilling the mixture on himself and sprouting painful looking boils across his skin. Snape, obviously, blamed Harry for this somehow. We lost multiple house points that class while Slytherin gained. Snape didn't even try to hide his bias.

As expected, the people I was avoiding were waiting outside. Luckily, Hermione was the one who offered to bring Neville to the Hospital Wing. At least they wouldn't be making fun of my muggleborn companion. I don't know what I would say if that happened right now. I tried to walk away but Crabbe and Goyle blocked my path with unamused snickers. Pansy, Daphne and Draco stood on the other side of me blocking me in with Theodore off to the side watching with an entertained look. They all had that same predatory look in their eyes when they would pull tricks on me but there was real hatred in their eyes and no awareness of lines to avoid crossing. The intention of messing with me had evolved from entertainment to hurting me.

"I have to say, Estelle, red is not your color,"' Pansy snickered, "I'm a bit shocked I didn't know you were able to get any uglier."

"Just leave me alone," I muttered trying to push past Crabbe again who roughly pushed me to the ground forcing me to look up at my old group of friends. Daphne had no emotion on her face and any hope I had of someone I was raised alongside like a sister; had died right there. I could feel the tears starting to gather in my eyes. Gryffindors were watching, standing aside unsure of what to do.

"My mother always said you would end up just like your parents," Crabbe spat down at me, "Blast off the tree."

"Does everyone know already?" I asked still on the ground making my quivering voice sound even more pathetic. Daphne looked away when I tried to give her another pleading look.

"Word travels fast of filthy blood traitors," Draco sneered down at me before laughing, "Can't say I'm surprised. You were lying to yourself if you thought you were good enough to be in Slytherin."

When I didn't respond and they grew tired of waiting on me to cry, they slowly sauntered off. Daphne had the closing line as she looked over her shoulder disinterested, "My father knows. I wouldn't waste your time waiting on any letters. He's very disappointed in you."

It wasn't until she had turned the corner at the end of the hall that I let the few tears fall down my cheek. There was a small group of Gryffindors standing near the door to the potions room watching as I brushed away my tears humiliated. I thought the footsteps I heard echoing in the stone hallways of the dungeon were them walking away until a hand was offered to me. Looking up cautiously, I saw it was a boy with a hesitant smile. He pulled me to my feet once I placed my hand in his, "C'mon, let's go get some lunch."

"Thank you," I stammered just as uncertain as him clutching my bag to my chest and struggling to look up at his face, "I'm Estelle."

"I'm Dean Thomas. I'm sorry about your cousins," He frowned looking in the direction they sauntered off in, "This will be old news soon."

"I'm not too sure about that," I said, tightening my grip on my leather bag as the rest of the group walked up to us. They started up a conversation about how much Snape sucked but I just let them talk as we made our way to the Great Hall. Nothing I was feeling right now made me feel like there should be any trust in my voice.

The Great Hall was buzzing with student life during lunch. Students were already rushing to get last-minute assignments done and understand the material they were learning. Some just chattered with their friends over a quick lunch break or played a game of some kind. I even saw a group of girls braiding each other's hair at the Hufflepuff table. It made me think of when Daphne and I would braid Astoria's hair when we visited her in St.Mungos. One of the Gryffindor boys in my year failed at trying to turn water into rum and burnt his eyebrows off in his explosive failure. It wasn't even the first time today Seamus had made something explode. Mail arrived with a flutter of owls and, as Daphne warned, I received no mail. Neville Longbottom got a Remembrall, which was really a pointless invention. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was the news article detailing how Gringotts had been robbed. It was allegedly the most secure bank in the world. Well, until now.

We had flying lessons with Slytherin and I tried to stand as far away from them as possible. At least I knew how to fly. Merlin, if Pansy tries to make fun of my flying she is delusional. Hermione seemed nervous. She was more of a learn from books than experience it kind of person.

Madam Hooch welcomed us and lined us all up near a line of brooms. It was boring listening to the basics of flying but at least we were outside. The weather was beautiful with clear skies and warm sunlight warming our skin and hair. Draco and I, unsurprisingly, didn't struggle with getting our brooms to fly into our palms. All the purebloods were at ease with their brooms. Harry did surprise me at how easy it came to him. It came to him even faster than Draco and myself. A small shrug was his only response when he caught my look of surprise. All I could think about was how I wanted to go in the sky and feel the warmth of the sun and the kiss of the wind. Hermione was getting more and more frustrated with her broom as it didn't listen to her. Ron on the other hand was nailed in the face with his. Eventually, everyone got their broom up and we continued onward.

"Now, once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it. And grip it tight, you don't want to be sliding off the end. When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, and then lean forward slightly and touch back down. On my whistle...3...2..," Madam Hooch explained before blowing her whistle. I followed her instructions aware a handful of the people probably could have tested out of this class. The sound of Neville whimpering filled the air as he lost control of his broom and started floating away. As he rose in the air and his broom started flipping him around and around like a wild bull. The voices of the class and the professor grew more and more urgent. There was no control in this flight and the poor boy was struggling to just stay on. The broom flew him into the sides of buildings, down nosedives, and zipped around the training pitch while he screamed in terror. Madam Hooch was at a loss of what to do because of how sporadic the broom was behaving and just stood with her wand trying to keep up. Suddenly, his cloak caught on the sword of a statue and he hung like a Christmas ornament slowly sinking down to the ground as the fabric of his robe struggled to handle his weight. With a great thud and scream, he landed on the ground in a crumple.

Madam Hooch ran toward him quickly realizing he had broken his wrist in the fall. The stress of the situation morphed my face into a gape of horror. She gathered up the injured boy and started walking away from the group, "Everyone's to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. Understand? If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will find themselves out of Hogwarts before they can say, Quidditch."

As they faded from view, I heard the familiar chuckle of Draco Malfoy and I turned to look in his direction. Could he be a compassionate person for five seconds? It wasn't like he never fell when he was learning to fly. He took lessons with Daphne and me, so I would know. A silver glass ball was being tossed carelessly in his hand. Neville must have dropped his new Remembrall.

Draco snickered looking at the memory aid and sneered at the Gryffindors, "Did you see his face? Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze, he'd have remembered to fall on his fat ass."

"Draco," I weakly protested, thrusting out my hand, "You don't even want that. Just leave him alone."

"Sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Vaile," Pansy glared at me making everyone around her snicker. A frown pulled my cheeks downward and I took a step back from the situation regretting even saying anything. Were they going to tell my uncle I did that?

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry ordered firmly glaring down at Malfoy who scoffed.

"No. I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," He casually plotted while getting on his broom and gliding upward with ease, "How 'bout up on the roof? What's the matter, Potter? Bit beyond your reach?"

As Harry got onto his broom, Hermione grabbed his robe and tried to remind him of what the professor said, "Harry, no! You heard what Madam Hooch said! Besides, you don't even know how to fly."

Harry didn't listen and glided into the sky with ease. It was shocking how at home he looked on a broomstick without any training. It took me years to get that smooth in the air. He was better than a few adults I've seen honestly. Hermione turned to me and scowled, "What an idiot."

Harry and Draco faced off in the sky too far to hear the words they were saying to each other. You could feel the tension from the ground. Draco looked extremely pleased with himself when he threw the glass ball as far as he could. The speed Harry took off at was remarkable and even managed to catch the little ball before it slammed into a brick wall. He flew down to the pitch holding the remembrall victoriously in his hand while the Gryffindors, myself included, ran over to him cheering gleefully. It was impossible not to join my house for this moment after Harry's natural talent was exposed.

Our moment of triumph over the Slytherins didn't last long as McGonagall strolled across the pitch and took away Harry with a peculiar expression on her normally stern features. Draco looked more than pleased that Harry had landed himself in trouble.

Later that very same evening, I learned that Harry was placed onto the Gryffindor quidditch team as the seeker. No one told me but I overheard it in the dormitory when Pavarti and Lavender spoke about it. It was very exciting news that The Boy Who Lived was going to be the youngest player in a century. The look on Draco's face the next actually managed to turn my day around on a somewhat good note. Hermione and I spent a good hour before bed mimicking his face and giggling.


	3. Chapter Two: The Golden Quartet Unified.

Time passed strangely at Hogwarts. Everything was happening so quickly yet so agonizingly slow. It was already Halloween, two months had passed since starting school. This was both the best and the worst news. Those were the two most confusing months of my life and it was starting to take a toll on me.

It was nothing how I expected Hogwarts to pan out to be. I was in Gryffindor and actually starting to somewhat settle into it. Ron and Harry still tended to avoid me but everyone else was starting to give me a chance. Especially after Dean Thomas helped me up the first time the Slytherin group cornered me. It's happened plenty of times since then. I wouldn't say we were friends exactly but at least the glaring had stopped.

I was trying to be like the other people in my house. I really was. But everything felt so reluctant and incorrect whenever I did something like them. Life here was the opposite of everything I've ever been taught. The world has turned upside down and I've fallen into Wonderland. My sense of identity felt destroyed. I still have the same blue eyes and black hair but everything inside me felt shifted off course. The others bonded and built their friendships so easily, I was somewhat jealous. The skin on my body nearly turns green sometimes when I watch how effortlessly they interact. My life has been spent in fear that I would say the wrong thing and get mocked for it. I feel like anyone who sees me, looks at me as a Slytherin reject that was raised by Death Eaters.

Classes were a mix. Herbology was going as well as I expected. It was exciting to learn more about plants I was familiar with. Professor Sprout was very impressed with my natural talent with plants. Potions was similar but Snape would rather die than admit I was one of the better students or even reward me in any way. Especially considering I was supposed to be in his house.

Astronomy was hard. Really hard. I struggled to stay awake during class and tell the difference between identical looking stars and planets. I just felt like it was a huge waste of time. I could just look at an astronomy calendar to see where stars were in the sky. History of Magic was more difficult with my short attention span. Transfiguration was humiliating how badly I was processing. My match was the last to be turned into a needle. Even Neville Longbottom got it before I did. It was easily arguable that I was one of the worst in my year. Uncle Jasper would be mortified if he knew.

We were just learning the basics in all the classes but DADA felt average. My wand sat comfortably in my hand during those classes. The professor was hard to take seriously as a defense expert with his fearful stuttering and jumpy body language. Charms was alright but it was hard to know how I was doing when we hadn't even started actually trying any spells. We were working our way up to the levitation spell and I couldn't wait. From the few times I attempted it in my dormitory I had a good feeling about it.

Hermione was helping me in the classes I was struggling in but I could tell she didn't think I was very bright. She was nothing like I thought a muggleborn would be like. Maybe that's why she seemed so uncomfortable around me sometimes. Other than school, I didn't know what to talk to her about. Neither of us had any other friends so we tended to stick together. The elephant in the room was the fact we wouldn't be friends in normal circumstances or if I was sorted into the house I hoped for. She could be a lot sometimes with her constant pretentious attitude. Admittedly, there were a few days I avoided her completely. But at least I wasn't totally alone.

With each flurry of owls delivering letters and packages, I became more and more hopeless about receiving any word from my family. It was like I died to them; no word whatsoever. Fear overwhelmed me when I thought of writing to them first.

Life was painfully lonely as a Gryffindor. Most of my time was spent in the library reading random books, and I was often joined by Hermione but it wasn't as if we talked. I missed my friends. Even if they were mean to me, at least they used to see me as a part of the group.

When Halloween rolled around I couldn't find any excitement like everyone else. Anticipation or excitement took more than I had to get out of me. Holidays aren't as fun when you felt an alienation from the entire world. The smells of pumpkin and spices overwhelmed the castle as the house elves prepared for the annual feast. Halloween used to be one of my favorite holidays. The costumed and masked balls were always so magical. It wasn't until Flitwick announced we would finally start attempting levitation magic that a spark of positivity jolted through me. Charms had quickly become my second favorite class behind Herbology. Maybe I was of Merlin's blood. He was known as the Prince of Enchanters because of his skill in charms. But with my failing status in my other classes, it seemed more like a coincidence.

Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were broken up from their normal pairing in Charms. Harry with Seamus and Ron was paired with Hermione much to his annoyance. He had grown to dislike Hermione even more than I did secretly. I was paired with Lavender Brown, who had mixed feelings about me but at least had stopped gossiping while I was in the dormitory; because I suggested some hair care potions to try. I tried to ignore the dislike I had for the girl based on her girlish beauty and popularity. Why couldn't I do that?

The tiny professor handed out a single, white feather to each student. My oak wand was warm to the touch enthralled by my excitement for the first time since starting Hogwarts. Hermione and I both had successfully made things fly with the charm we were learning. Despite already knowing the spell my excitement was obvious with the bright smile on my face. We were one step closer to learning even more interesting spells.

"One of a wizard's most rudimentary skills is levitation, the ability to make objects fly. Uh, do you all have your feathers?" Flitwick lectured and I noticed Hermione eagerly held up her feather for approval, "Good. Now, uh, don't forget the nice wrist movement we've been practicing, hmm? The swish and flick. Everyone."

Everyone in the class showed him the movement we had been working on while muttering swish and flick eager to move onto some actual magic. Flitwick was satisfied with our display and pushed forward, "Good. And enunciate. Wingardium Leviosa. Off you go then."

The classroom was suddenly filled with the buzz of excitement as everyone attempted their first charm. Lavender eyed me excitedly as my feather hovered on the desk a few inches. Before she could mention hopeful house points from my achievement, our attention was pulled to Ron and Hermione bickering below us.

"Wingardrium Leviosar," Ron slurred, slashing his wand through the sky as Hermione tightened in annoyance. It didn't take long for her to reach out and stop his erratic waving.

"Stop, stop, stop. You're going to take someone's eye out. Besides, you're saying it wrong. It's Leviosa, not Leviosar," Hermione explained sounding perfectly pretentious to the red haired boy. He rolled his eyes with a scoff at her instructions.

"You do it then if you're so clever. Go on, go on," Ron sneered unaware she had already mastered the spell last week in the library. Hermione caught my eye and smirked. Before Ron had a chance to realize she was ahead of the class, her feather was drifting into the open ceiling of the room waiting to be applauded by the professor.

"Oh, well done! See here, everyone! Ms. Granger's done it! Oh, splendid!" Flitwick smiled at Hermione awarding her house points and then seeing my feather floating humbly near the desk, "And Ms. Vaile too!"

Lavender hugged my arm tightly in joy of receiving house points and if anyone were to look at us it would seem like we were long friends. Unexpectedly a small giggle escaped my lips and I returned her smile.

"Gryffindor Girls are the best!" She quietly cheered to me and I sheepishly nodded in agreement. The smile on my face grew as she deepened her squeal. Our moment of girl empowerment was ripped away when the room was filled with a loud bang. Turning toward the source of the sound I saw Seamus, covered in soot and singed hair, staring down at his nearly burnt to ash feather. Harry sat next to him and was dusted with a slight coating of soot from the explosion and eyebrows raised to his hairline in shock.

"I think we're going to need another feather over here, Professor," Harry joked, breaking the silence sending the professor into a nervous frenzy. It took about ten minutes but eventually the class calmed again with Flitwick paying close attention to Seamus. The rest of the class I tried to help Lavender levitate her feather but only was able to shake the feather a little. As we exited the class, she asked me if I could help her in the dorms later after the feast in order to be ready for the next class. Hopefully earning Gryffindor more points. Gryffindor really wanted to break Slytherin's winning streak for the house cup this year.

As we made our way across the courtyard, she started to gossip to me about some third year's diary being spread around campus. Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus and Neville walked in front of us as we made our way back to the common room to relax for an hour before Herbology. Then the feast would only be a few hours away. Ron was stomping and loudly complaining about Hermione.

"It's Leviosa, not Leviosar. Honestly, she's a nightmare. No wonder she hasn't got any friends!" Ron mocked cruelly and loud enough that everyone in the courtyard could hear. My stomach dropped when Hermione pushed through the line of boys with her face down quickly trying to get to the safety of a nearby bathroom. Her cheeks looked red and wet already. Ron Weasley was such an idiot.

Harry softly turned to Ron with a wince, "I think she heard you."

"She's annoying but he didn't have to be so rude. Boys are so stupid," Lavender commented from beside me barely pausing to think about what happened, "I hope she doesn't skip the feast. The food already smells so amazing. Some upperclassmen told me it's one of the best meals of the year. I think I might put some of the hair potion in my hair before and some festive barrettes. Oh! I didn't tell you! The hair potion came in this morning that you told me about! I got the blueberry scent in the blue bottle. So don't worry about mixing our bottles up in the bathroom! You have the magnolia scent right? What are you going to do with your hair tonight?"

As Lavender talked my ear off, I looked to where Hermione ran off to. She always stood up for me when someone picked on me around her and I just watched as Ron mouthed off for the millionth time. My feet halted in their tracks as guilt washed over me for considering just going to my dorm to read before our last class. Lavender gave me a puzzled look, as if somehow in that class we had bonded over charms enough to be considered a friend to her and asked, "Are you alright, Estelle?'

"I think I'm going to go see if Hermione is okay. She looked really upset," I decided and looked back to see the bubbly beauty in front of me that I found myself jealous of. She had no awkward baby fat or need to grow into her lips like I did. I don't think I would have told her about the hair care if she hadn't asked me. A lot of me regrets helping her become ever prettier. Sometimes it felt like everyone was more attractive than me.

"Ron was pretty brutal, even if it was all true. Yeah, you two do seem to be buddies, aren't you?" She asked nodding starting to walk toward the common room, "Don't forget about Herbology in an hour. Well, I'm sure even if you missed Sprout wouldn't say anything. You're her favorite. Let me know what she says."

I nodded feeling uncomfortable at the curious look on her face. There was no way I was going to give her a reason to gossip about Hermione when she already has had such a bad day. Especially considering how many times I caught her, Seamus and Pavarti gossiping about me.

If I didn't already think Hermione had run to a nearby girl's bathroom to cry, the uncomfortable faces of the two fourth year Ravenclaw girls was enough to clue me in on her location. The bathroom had emptied out the few students, as it was a bit out of the way for most student's use, who felt uncomfortable by the muffled sobbing coming from one of the stalls. Uncertainty weighed down each small step toward the stall with Hermione's feet peeking out the bottom. The cool tile of the bathroom floor kept me focused as I kneeled in front of the stall. My hand formed a small fist and knocked gently on the door immediately silencing the crying.

"Hermione?" I called out softly, "It's Estelle. Are you okay?"

"Does it seem like I'm okay?" Hermione snapped, freezing my body in surprise, "Besides don't act like you care about me! I know what kind of family you come from. I know what they think about muggleborns. I'm not an idiot."

"Hermione," I faulted unsure of how to continue before sighing and laying back flat against the hard tile floor to stare at the ceiling, "It doesn't matter what my family thinks, you were the first person who was nice to me at Hogwarts. I do care about you."

"You just feel bad for me and want me to keep helping you in Transfiguration and Astronomy. You don't want to fail," Hermione said with a voice crack, "Everything Ron said was true. Just leave me alone."

"I'm not going to just leave you on your own. Being alone isn't going to help," I frowned fiddling with my fingers reflecting on my own emotions, "It's terrible. I'm not leaving."

Hermione didn't respond but the sound of her muffled crying started up again. Silence blanketed the bathroom and I found myself happy that no one was walking in. I struggled to find words to say and decided just being there was enough for right now. Hopefully she didn't just want space and I was making everything worse.

"You're missing class," She sniffled quietly, "Herbology is your favorite."

"I know," I responded delicately, "You're missing class too."

Silence seeped in again while I stressfully brushed my hair out with my fingers. It felt impossible to sit still right now. She must feel devastated to miss class considering who she is.

"But why?" Hermione asked, thickly blowing her nose into toilet paper on the other side of the wooden stall door, "I'm the annoying know-it-all."

"Well, I'm the misplaced pureblood. I guess outcasts like us need to stick together."

"Outcast?" Hermione sighed, "I thought Hogwarts was going to be different. Back home, people thought I was annoying and...strange. No one wanted to be my friend. My classmates would pick on me and tease me about everything I did. When I got my acceptance letter, I thought I had finally found somewhere I could belong. I thought I would make friends."

I didn't know what to say in response to her confession. I could see how exciting getting a letter verifying the fact you were special would be to a bullied girl. She spoke again after I debated too long on a response with a regretful hitch in her voice, "It was ridiculous of me. I know."

"Do you remember the first potions class?" I asked forcing myself to lower the walls I had put up since getting put in Gryffindor, "The Slytherins threw a ball of parchment at my head. You glared at them and told me to ignore them."

When she didn't say anything, I pressed on swallowing the thickness in my throat, "You were the first person that had ever stuck up for me before. My own cousin never did that when they would tease me back home. Thank you."

"Can we be friends?" Hermione asked fearfully expecting to get rejected, "Even though I'm a muggleborn."

My body froze from the taboo nature of the question in light of my upbringing, but furrowed my eyebrow in determination, "Yeah. Neither of us deserve to be alone anymore."

Despite our new friendship, Hermione's hurt from Ron's comments didn't lesson over the next couple hours and she remained hidden away in the stall. There were stretches of silence and stretches of me attempting to convince her to get out of the stall. But she wouldn't. We talked about how Ron's judgments had hurt both of us, with him thinking I was a dark, evil witch and her being branded as an insufferable know-it-all. Parvati Patil even stopped by to check on us on the way to the feast. Soon she realized that trying to get Hermione to get out of the stall was a hopeless battle, she offered to get us some food from the feast to eat in the dorms whenever Hermione felt steady enough to leave. Lavender Brown would no doubt be intrigued by whatever Parvati reported back to her, even if she checked in from a place of concern. A while passed and I knew the feast would be ending soon.

"Hermione," I called trying once again to stop her sobbing, "The feast is ending soon and we won't be able to get to our dormitory without the entire house looking at us. I'm sure the last thing you want is attention right now."

"You're right," Hermione agreed, shuffling in the stall slightly to gather her things and clean up the tissues filled with tears and snot, "We should go before it ends. I really don't want to run into Ron."

The click of the unlocking stall door echoed in the near empty bathroom. Upon the first sight of her wild hair, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders tightly as she hugged back. A horrible smell filled the room as I pulled away and I joked happy as she had finally unlocked the door, "I think a pipe burst. Do you smell that?"

"Estelle," Hermione gaped making me turn around in confusion to see what was making her make that face, "I don't think it's a pipe you smell."

A large, brutish looking troll stared down at us in the place I expected to see a ghost or upperclassman. Hermione's breath started to speed up pulling me backwards away from the troll by my robes. My entire body was frozen and only started to respond when the massive beast started to raise it's large wooden club. My mouth let out a terrified scream as Hermione pulled me into the stall to hide. Slamming ourselves to the ground, we had no choice but to crawl on the tile floor to avoid the heavy swing of the troll's club. The stalls exploded and rained down broken pieces of wood onto us, as we struggled to get away from the beast. We let out high pitched screams as a large pile of wood fell down onto us with only our arms to protect our heads. The sound of the door being slammed open made us turn to see Harry and Ron gasping at the situation in front of them.

"Move!" Harry screamed urging us to continue sliding under the stall doors to avoid being squashed by the swinging club. Not wasting a second, we crawled. Barely avoiding the swing of the club while Harry and Ron began to throw broken pieces of wood at the angry creature in hopes of distracting it from it's cornered prey.

"Help!" Hermione screamed in the hopes a professor would come in to rescue us. The troll didn't seem to notice the pelting of debris from the boys and growled down towards us both.

"Hey, Pea Brain!" Ron shouted nailing the troll in the face giving us only enough time to crawl and hide under the sinks. The troll let out an angry grunt as it smashed the sinks narrowly missing Hermione and me. The places to hide in the bathroom were quickly disappearing and the troll only seemed to be getting more and more angry.

"Help!" Hermione screamed at Harry and Ron who looked clueless as to what to do.

"Your wand! Use your wand!" I screamed, making Harry nod pulling out his wand before running full speed at the Troll. Leeching onto the club, Harry was swung into the air landing with his legs on either side of the troll's neck. This only made the troll angrier and started to flail to get the boy off his body. Harry, unsure of what to do and not having a moment to think, shoved his wand roughly into the nose of the troll. It cried out in pain, flailing desperately to get Harry off of him so he could smash him with his club. Reaching up, the troll grabbed the black haired boy by the ankle and held him upside down aiming his large club at his body.

"Do something!" Harry screamed, pulling up his body to avoid the swing of the club. Ron looked around desperately for something to throw. I had dropped my wand earlier when Hermione pulled me into the stall. I shouldn't have taken it out of its sheath on my hip but the feeling of the wood comforted me.

"Swish and flick!" Hermione screamed at Ron. Suddenly realizing he was more capable than simply throwing things at the beast, Ron pulled out his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron cast and pronounced it perfectly due to Hermione's demonstration that irritated him so much in class. The troll let out a confused grunt as his club was ripped out of his hand and floated up above his head just before violently dropping down on its head.

"Cool," Ron breathed as the troll swayed, shaking the ground with each step. Harry was dropped on the ground so suddenly that he looked dizzy at the beast swaying above him.

"Harry! Move!" I shrieked, shaking him out of his shock to scoot desperately out of the path of the unsteady troll. Harry barely made it out of the way when the troll crashed to the ground with a monstrous shake and thud. A cloud of dust rose around the body dramatically. The room was silent as we stared at the unconscious troll worried it would spring up making us continue the fight for our lives. Hermione and I made our way over to the boys nervously. I picked up my wand along the way instantly feeling safer than before.

"Is it...," Hermione trailed off nervously looking at the boys, "Dead?"

"It's chest is moving," I shook my head making eye contact with Harry who nodded in agreement.

"I don't think so. Just knocked out," Harry responded as we made it to their side at the head of the unconscious troll with Harry's wand still sticking out of its nose. I grimaced at the gooey snot leaking from it's nostril.

"Not exactly what I meant when I said use your wand," I blinked half expecting the troll to burst to life as Harry pulled out the wand. The wand was freed with a gross squelch and was coated in thick, smelly troll snot. Harry, Ron and I let out various sounds of disgust at the state of the wand. Hermione covered her mouth in repulsion.

"Ugh, Troll boogies!" Ron gagged. Harry tried to shake off the larger chunks of snot and boogers unsuccessfully. It was like glue, disgusting foul-smelling glue.

"I have a wand cleaning kit if you want to borrow it," I winced offering my brand new cleaning kit to Harry who nodded in appreciation. A flurry of footsteps bustled at the doorway freezing at the sight of the destroyed bathroom and unconscious troll. McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell all stared at the scene before them in horrified shock. I made eye contact with Snape who narrowed his eyes at me. With his friendship with the Malfoy's, Uncle would be hearing about this very quickly. We took down a troll. Perhaps he will be impressed enough to finally talk to me.

"Ah!" McGonagall gasped, placing her hand on her heart to try and calm herself down, looking horrified at the dirty looking first years before pointing at the boys, "Oh, my goodness! E-Explain yourselves, both of you!"

As they struggled to explain what happened, Hermione cut them off with a clear tone looking directly to our head of house, "It's my fault, Professor McGonagall."

Everyone in the room stared at the young girl with similar expressions of shock, before McGonagall prompted her to continue, "Ms. Granger?"

"I went looking for the troll. I'd read about them and thought I could handle it. But I was wrong. If Harry, Ron and Estelle hadn't come and found me...I'd probably be dead," She lied so smoothly I almost believed her myself. I caught Harry and Ron's expression of surprise and found myself scared to move in fear of giving away the lie. It wasn't the best lie but it wasn't totally unbelievable. McGonagall struggled to accept the story Hermione presented her with but eventually nodded in reluctant acceptance knowing it was the only explanation they were getting.

"Be that as it may...it was an extremely foolish thing to do. I would have expected more rational behavior on your part, Ms. Granger. 5 points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgment. As for you three, I just hope you realize how fortunate you are. Not many students could take on a full grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. 5 points...will be awarded to each of you. For sheer dumb luck," She frowned at us before turning on her heel with Snape at her side. They probably needed to tell Dumbledore the troll was unconscious. An awkward energy filled the room as Quirrell stared at us with uncertainty.

"Perhaps you ought to go. M-might wake up...heh," He stammered weakly. We didn't hesitate to escape from the room that we almost died in and didn't even hesitate when the troll let out a weak roar. No one spoke to each other until we were two floors away from the bathroom. Each of us deep in our own mixture of disbelief and shock. The smell of the troll left but the dust and splinters covering our clothes traveled the castle with us.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled as we neared the entry to the common room.

"Ten, you mean," Harry corrected Ron as we stopped in front of the portrait, "Once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Even worse," Ron groaned before we all froze awkwardly realizing the true extent of bonding we had just gone through. Before entering the common room, we all gave each other a hurried thanks for saving each other's necks from the troll and McGonagall. The common room was packed and vibrating with the sound of everyone talking about what happened. The food from the feast had been brought to the common room and everyone stood around eating and talking about the troll. The four of us each made a plate and found a corner to sit on the floor and eat. We didn't talk at all but it was a comfortable silence. Nice even. For the first time since starting Hogwarts, I didn't hesitate about where to sit. It just felt like the obvious and only choice after what happened. I guess if you don't like someone all you need to do is knock out a twelve-foot angry troll in a school bathroom to change it.

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With the arrival of November came the chilling of the weather. Knee high socks were traded for thick tights. House scarves and hats were broken out to keep out the cold away. The morning dew on the grounds had begun to freeze into a layer of frost in the mornings. Windows had thin layers of ice swirling on the glass panels until the afternoon sun melted it away.

Despite the dropping temperatures, Hogwarts was a warmer place than ever. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I had become inseparable since Halloween. For the first time in my life I had friends that didn't tease or trick me because of my parents. In fact, when they found out the truth behind my parent's death they were all surprised and slightly relieved. Hermione decided that they were heroes for holding onto information. Ron said he should have known I was different because I wasn't in Slytherin. The information impacted Harry the most and for the first time I was able to talk to someone who understood the strange pain of having your parents taken from you because of war. The Slytherins had heard word of the troll and my newly formed friendship with The Boy Who Lived, a blood traitor and a muggleborn. If there was any hope of my family overlooking my sorting, it was destroyed that night. It's strange being grateful for a troll trying to kill you but I was.

The Quidditch season was due to start in just a few days and Oliver Wood was going insane trying to train Harry in time for the first match against Slytherin. Wood was training Harry during most of his free time and without Hermione's help, he would be failing his classes from incomplete homework. Upon learning I knew how to play chess, admittedly extremely poorly, as Draco never really wanted to explain so he would always win. Ron wasn't as bored when Harry was busy with preparations. It was insane to me just how quickly we blended together as a group. Sometimes I worried they were all playing an inside joke and were just pretending to like me. No one had ever accepted me and my parent's choices so warmly after all.

It was the day of Harry's first game and his anxiety was so strong I was starting to worry too. Harry and Hermione sat on one side while Ron and I sat on the other in a neat box. It was easier to ignore the glares of the Slytherins with Ron cracking jokes about them next to me. I frowned when I noticed Harry avoiding eating anything. Yet I understood. I found it hard to eat when I was nervous too.

"Take a bit of toast, mate, go on," Ron frowned at his best friend pointing to the breakfast in between us on the center of the long wooden table.

"Ron's right, Harry. You're gonna need your strength today," Hermione nodded on one side of him placing a piece of toast onto the plate in front of him.

Harry just started at it nervously, "I'm not hungry."

"At least try to drink some water," I pushed a bronze goblet across the table toward Harry.

Behind him, the dark figure of the resident potion's master crept up and peered down at our little group with an annoyed grimace. If anything, Snape was kind to me before I made friends with Harry by ignoring my potions in class. Now he found any excuse to take points off my potions giving Slytherins with worse potions better grades than myself. Part of me wanted to complain but it would just make more problems and make me a bigger target.

"Good luck today, Potter. Then again, now that you've proven yourself against a troll, a little game of Quidditch should be easy work for you...even if it is against Slytherin," Snape sneered down at us. I avoided looking up from the table until I saw his figure limping away from us from the corner of my eye.

"That explains the blood," Harry frowned watching the professor from a distance. His movements were jolty and awkward from the waist down. I turned to Harry with a frown.

"Blood?" Hermione asked confused as to what Harry was talking about like the rest of our small group.

"Listen, I'm guessing Snape let the troll in as a diversion so he could try and get past that 3 headed dog. But, he got himself bitten, that's why he's limping," Harry explained, convinced of the things he was saying. My eyes shot open at the mention of a three headed dog so casually.

"I'm sorry," I blinked, holding up my hand to pause the conversation, "What three headed dog? Why am I the only one surprised by this?"

"The stairs moved and we figured out why Dumbledore had forbidden the third floor. There's a bloody beast stored up there. We were hiding from Filch when we found it," Ron explained quickly and I just nodded in disbelief. Part of me felt hurt that Hermione or the boys hadn't included me in their secret until now but I pushed it off. Our friendship was new and they must have just forgotten about it.

"But why would anyone go near that dog?" Hermione steered us back to Harry's theory. My frown deepened at the serious nature of this conversation and looked around to make sure no one was listening in.

"Apparently they are actually very loyal creatures," I informed them excitedly, earning looks of disbelief, "I wonder who trained it."

"The day I was at Gringotts, Hagrid took something out of one of the vaults. He said it was Hogwarts' business, very secret," Harry said, explaining information that had roused a memory of Harry mentioning he had visited the vault that had been broken into.

"So you're saying....," Hermione trailed off not understanding the point Harry was leading us to.

"That's what the dog's guarding. That's what Snape wants," He hissed passionately lowering his voice as a precaution.

"Do you know what it is?" I asked Harry who shook his head with a sigh of dejection. He doesn't have all the pieces to figure out the strange things going on at our school right now. The sound of an owl squeaking and fluttering made us look up to see a beautiful white bird about to drop a long wrapped package with a note attached to it. The bird dropped the package in front of Harry who stared at it in shock as he caught it. Everyone looked our way in the hall as the single owl completed it's delivery and flew away.

"It's not even time for mail," I titled my head wondering what the long lumpy package could be. Harry looked at me in disbelief as he gently placed it onto the table.

"I never get mail," Harry breathed excitedly. I knew how he felt and couldn't stop myself from feeling a little guilty at the jealousy boiling up in my stomach. I wanted to sneer or roll my eyes like Daphne would but I stiffly crossed my arms to keep my negative feelings at bay. Everyday I still hoped that my Uncle's owl would drop something off to me but it's always met with disappointment. At this point I shouldn't hope but, something inside me wants his affection bad enough to believe in the near impossible.

"Let's open it," Ron nodded, totally ignoring the note attached to the wrapping. The horrible manners of the suggestion was unnoticed as Ron and Harry worked together to rip off the lumpy paper, even if I stared in slight horror at their uncouth actions. Under the beige wrapping laid a shiny broom with spotless gold detailing the twinkled in the sunlight of the Great Hall. From the second my eyes laid eyes on it I recognized it. Draco tried to convince his father to help him smuggle one of those brooms into Hogwarts despite the rule against first years having brooms. He was going to be furious when he learned that Harry was sent one and gets to play quidditch like he wanted.

Harry's face lit up with a huge smile at the sight of the mystery gift, "It's a broomstick!"

Ron shook his head realizing the same thing I had, "That's not just any broomstick, Harry. It's a Nimbus 2000!"

"It's the best one on the market. Everyone wants one of these," I cooed over the broom running my light fighter over the smooth wood handle. Becoming friends with Ron made me realize the disgusting level of privilege I grew up with. Harry smiled at each of us and froze slightly.

"But who?" Harry wondered before spotting his own perched in front of McGonagall who stared down at our little group with a rare small smile. I guess she wasn't kidding when she said Hogwarts cared about its students.

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Word had spread to everyone in the school by the time the first match was about to start. I wish I got to see Draco's face when he found out his rival got all the special treatment he thought he deserved. Lavender, Pavarti, and I made signs to cheer on Harry a few days ago. Dean Thomas ended up surprising us by joining in and making a beautiful lion head poster that an older classman charmed to roar. I stood excitedly with the poster denting from the tight grip of my fingers. I wasn't particularly a massive Quidditch fan but the intense atmosphere of the pitch could draw in even the biggest adversary to the sporting event. Hermione and Ron stood beside me with the groundskeeper Hagrid behind us. I had met the man only a few moments ago but his ability to make me feel comfortable and safe around him was unmatched by anyone I've ever met. The towering man even complimented my sign. It just said 'Go Potter' in red with a golden lightning bolt in the background. Drawing wasn't exactly one of my strongest skills, unlike Astoria. The stands were filled with cheers, each one fighting to be the loudest.

"Hello, and welcome to Hogwarts first Quidditch game of the season! Today's game Slytherin versus Gryffindor!" Lee Jordan's voice boomed across the pitch making everyone's screams intensify. You could feel the anticipation on your skin. The teams zoomed out and revealed the sound of their fans quickly. They took their places as the pitch quieted in the tension of the start of the game.

"The players take their positions as Madam Hooch steps out onto the field to begin the game," Lee announced as the flying professor spoke to the players briefly before releasing the Bludger, followed by the other balls.

"The bludgers are up...followed by the Golden Snitch. Remember, the snitch is worth 150 points. The seeker who catches the Snitch ends the game," Lee reminded everyone as we all cheered in excitement. Hootch threw the quaffle into the air and the players zoomed into a flurry of activity. My head felt light and dizzy from the abrupt intensity of the movement and before I knew it Lee was announcing that Gryffindor scored ten points from the hands of Angelia Johnson. I waved my sign in delight that we were already starting out stronger than Slytherin.

The game only grew more and more intense by the moment. Gryffindor was holding nothing back from scoring points. Unfortunately, Slytherin had no issues with playing dirty. They even made Wood fall from his broom after a cheap shot to the stomach. Another set of Slytherin players herded Angelia Johnson straight into one of the towers falling and landing in a pitiful slump. I nervously watched magical stretchers pick up the Gryffindor's with such focus I didn't even notice what was going on with Harry until Hagrid cried out, " What's going on with Harry's broomstick?"

Looking up to the sky to see what Hagrid was talking about, I gasped at the sight of Harry's broom trying to buck him off like a wild unbroken stallion. It had to be cursed or jinxed. Brooms don't just act up like that for no reason.

"It's Snape! He's jinxing the broom!" Hermione discovered as she scanned the pitch with a pair of magical binoculars I had lent her for the game.

Ron gasped as I took the binoculars to see for myself, "Jinxing the broom? What do we do?"

"Leave it to me," Hermione glared in the direction of Snape before storming off with motivation ablaze in her eyes. Hagrid didn't notice our discussion and was fretting over the first year boy. As the moments stretched on with Hermione's plan getting put into action. She made her way to the faculty tower, Hagrid's worrying only deepened along with Ron and myself.

"C'mon, Hermione," Ron muttered anxiously looking back and forth between the tower and our friend.

"Someone needs to do something!" Hagrid bellowed after Harry experienced a particularly rough jolt.

Turning to Hagrid, I forced out a comforting tone, "Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen, right?"

Hagrid simply nodded and started muttering under his breath. His voice boomed out for Harry to hold on. With a harsh lurch, Harry was knocked from his broom with only one arm to hold onto the handle with. Ron and I made eye contact and we nervously waited for whatever Hermione had in mind to help Harry. Suddenly, the broom calmed and Harry was able to climb back on to continue the search for the little golden snitch. Using the binoculars, I saw Snape's robes alight with a flame being put out in a panicked flurry of water spells.

Within seconds of the broom stabilizing, it's as if nothing happened because Harry and the Slytherin seeker are neck and neck for the snitch. The cries and cheers of the pitch are impossible to distinguish from Gryffindor and Slytherin sounding like a merged, chaotic roar. The Slytherin seeker pulled out of the nose dive but Harry pulled up with only a few inches above the ground using his broom as a surfboard. Reaching out, Harry leaned forward to grab the snitch but crashed to the ground due to imbalance on the broom. The pitch was silent.

Harry stands up and violently gags and Hagrid frowns, "Looks like he's gonna be sick!"

With a violent gag, the snitch popped out of Harry's mouth and into his hand erupting the pitch into cries of victory. Harry stood on the grass proudly holding up the golden ball. Lee Jordan's glee was alive in his announcement, "He's got the Snitch! Harry Potter receives 150 points for catching the Snitch!"

The Slytherins tried to reject the way Harry got the snitch as invalid but Hooch ruled that it was a fair catch even if it was unusual. As Harry and the rest of the team changed out of their uniforms and trickled back to the castle to celebrate in the common room. Ron excitedly talked to his brothers, Fred and George. Hermione stood off to the side slightly discussing the excitement of her first quidditch match with Hagrid and I. Draco and the others made sure to send me a nasty look while passing by. Daphne's face curled into repulsion looking over the company I had chosen for myself. Part of me wanted to run up beside her and discuss how exciting that match was but the aura of the Slytherin students was not friendly. Even with my new found friends, I can't help but miss my cousin so much. The excited chatter of the Weasley brothers died when they spotted Crabbe and Pansy staring down at me. Pansy paused in front of me giving the same judgmental gaze to Hagrid and Hermione.

"I'm so relieved you aren't in Slytherin," Pansy giggled cruelly knowing the immediate effect she had over me. My body tried to shrink itself under her gaze and I refused to meet her eyes, "Honestly disgusting how quickly you forget where you came from."

"Oi, Parkinson, forgot who won today?" One of the Weasley twins bellowed down at the first year, placing a protective hand on my shoulder, "Estelle is too good for that house anyway."

I turned to look up at the tall older boy and felt my cheeks warm. I wonder if it was Fred or George who defended me. Pansy let out a scoff rolling her eyes at the boy towering above her like he was filth, "Looks like Vaile's gotten herself a blood traitor boyfriend. As if you hadn't given your family enough reasons to disown you."

My fearful gasp was drowned out by Hagrid shooing off the two Slytherin first years who smirked at the giant man before heading up the hill to the castle. Ron turned to me and frowned, "Sorry about her. She's a menace anyway. Even people in Slytherin think she's irritating."

"Her older sister isn't a proper gem either," scoffed the twin who didn't spring to my defense.

"More of a hag than a witch, right Fred?" Said my knight in shining armor. So he must be George. I smiled weakly but my shoulder's deflated at the thought of my Uncle hearing about all my new allies. Fred and George clearly were ready to defend anyone that were friends with their little brother. Harry walked up with a huge smile that quickly faded sensing the tension in the air.

"Parkinson," Hermione offered a simple explanation. Understanding lit up Harry's expression quickly forgetting about the victory.

I threw my face into my hands and tried to still my breathing, "If the year keeps going like this, I'm going to be homeless by the summer. Or Christmas!"

"Now stop yer fretting," Hagrid bellowed waving off my worries with his oversized hands, "Dumbledore wouldn't send a student off with no place to live. Come have some nice warm tea. Calm yer right down, it will."

As our small group made its way up the hill, Hermione turned to me and comforted me in a private, quiet tone, "Besides, I'm positive my parents wouldn't mind you staying with us over break if I asked."

I grabbed her hand with my own leather gloved hand and squeezed gently. The group reached the top of the hill and Fred and George decided to check out the celebration in the Common Room. I paused, falling behind the group headed to Hagrid's shifting with uncertainty.

"Wait!" I called out to Fred and George's retreating figures. They paused and turned to look at me. I felt heat rise to my face and squirmed under the gaze of the teenage boys. Everything I rehearsed saying flew out my mind for a second before I blurted out knowing my face was growing redder by the second, "Thank you for standing up for me, George, and thank you for trying to cheer me up about Pansy, Fred."

"Anytime," They said in unison, "Let us know if you want us to mess with them."

"Proper prats, they are," George shrugged, adding on to their unified movements. Causing the making of butterflies flurry in my stomach when he looked me in the eye.

"Good thing you aren't one of them," Fred joked nodding to me before they turned and continued towards the Common Room. I watched George's shrinking figure disappear into the distance, as I tried to surpass the sudden bashfulness I felt toward him. Was it really that easy for him to just stand up for me; for me to get a crush on him?

"Are you...blushing?" Ron grimaced looking me over with confusion, "Over George?"

"No!" I snapped breaking out of my trance shuffling to rejoin the group refusing to look them in the eyes, "I was just saying thank you. I have manners!"

"Gross," Ron whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Stop yer bickering," Hagrid said to Ron and I taking pity on my tomato red face and turned to Harry with a massive smile, "Congratulations on the win, Harry."

"Yeah!" Hermione agreed excitedly, "It was spectacular."

"Probably would have caught it even faster if someone wasn't messing with your broom," I grinned. The broom almost threw him hurtling down to the ground and probably would have if Hermione hadn't done something.

"It was Snape," Ron turned to Harry who's eyes widened in shock at the news, "Estelle, Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering. He wouldn't take his eyes off you!"

"Hermione broke his focus though," I smiled at the muggleborn giving her proper credit. Harry nodded his thanks to the clever girl aware of how close he was to falling. The grounds of Hogwarts were quiet with empty courtyards; empty from student's celebrating, or nursing their pride, because of the results of the game. The first taste of winter had us all wrapped in our Gryffindor scarves. My hands were covered in buttery leather gloves in a grey shade. Hermione wasn't as affected by the temperature and was warm enough in the typical knee high socks. Winter chill has a way of nestling into my skeleton easily forcing me to cling to tights and gloves. Uncle Jasper said my grandmother was like that too. I would have to change out my normal uniform robe for a thicker version soon.

"Nonsense. Why would Snape put a curse on Harry's broom?" Hagrid shook his head as we made our way through stone archways.

Harry gave a reflective shrug wondering the same thing while looking at Hagrid with a touch of cheekiness, "Who knows. Why was he trying to get past that three headed dog on Halloween?"

Hagrid scowled down at the four of us in surprise, "Who told you 'bout Fluffy?"

We all halted at the casual familiarity in his tone for various reasons. Ron gasped at the man and repeated the unusual name for the fearsome beast, "Fluffy?"

"That thing has a name?" Hermione bristled remembering the terrifying nature of the animal. We continued moving forward toward Hagrid's.

I pressed my hands together in excitement eagerly looking up at the ground's keeper, "Fluffy? You have a three headed dog? Can I meet him?"

"Well, of course he's got a name. He's mine and no, you can't meet 'im. It's too dangerous. I bought him off an Irish feller I met down at the pub last year. Then I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the....," Hagrid trailed off realizing he was saying too much when we started to lean forward in anticipation.

"Yes?" Harry prompted eagerly.

"Shouldn'ta said that," He winced at us and firmly added, "Don't ask any more questions. That's top secret, that is."

Harry threw his head back in exasperation, "But Hagrid, whatever Fluffy's guarding, Snape's trying to steal it!"

"Codswallop!" Hagrid paused to look each of us firmly in the eyes, "Professor Snape is a Hogwarts teacher."

"Hogwarts teacher or not, I know a curse when I see one. I've read all about them. You have to keep eye contact. And Snape wasn't blinking," Hermione lectured off instantly. My hands gestured to the brainy girl in a, 'Obviously,' sort of motion. She was right and Hagrid couldn't argue against such a known fact.

"Exactly." Harry nodded in agreement to Hermione vocally. Hagrid let out a small sigh trying to decide how to handle being interrogated by a bunch of eleven year olds.

"Now, you listen to me, all four of you," He said taking the time to point to each of us, "You're meddlin' in things that ought not to be meddled in. It's dangerous. What that dog is guarding is strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

"Nicholas Flamel?" Harry smiled eagerly at the discovery of another clue to this puzzle. I frowned, brushing a hand through my hair.

"Where have I heard that name?" I muttered knowing it was on the tip of my tongue. Nicholas Flamel sounded so familiar.

"I shouldn't have said that. I should not have said that. I should not have said that," Hagrid muttered speeding ahead of us to avoid spilling any more secrets by mistake. The four of us looked at each other with intrigue alight in our eyes.

"Nicholas Flamel. Who's Nicholas Flamel?" Harry asked the three of us in hopes we held secret knowledge.

"I don't know," Hermione reluctantly sighed.

"I have a feeling we are about to be spending a lot of time in the library," I added, making Ron sigh. Hagrid called to us, as his hut was just around the corner, and we all dashed off trying to catch up with the long legged man. My stubby legs were the slowest.

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The rest of November was spent becoming intimately familiar with the school library. Even with the countless hours, it was easy to get turned around in the hundreds of narrow rows hosting thousands of shelves with tens of thousands of books lined up inside them. There must have been over a hundred different sections alone. Hermione had to stay on top of the three of us to keep the effort alive. Harry was simply frustrated with the lack of results and his impatience was making him angsty. I kept getting distracted by different books I wanted to read that had nothing to do with Nicholas Flamel. Hermione ended up making me start a list of books I would read once this was solved. Ron struggled the most with spending all his time in the library due to the strictly enforced rules. He had gotten kicked out of the library multiple times for sneaking in snacks and laughing too loudly.

The librarian, Madam Pince, decided he was too much like Fred and George and not enough like Percy to not require a watchful eye. Her fierce protection of the books honestly made her suffer in performing her job. The war she seemed to wage against the students seemed to prevent anyone from getting the assistance they needed when trying to find resources.

The sheer amount of books and the inability of being able to get pointed in the right direction without tipping off the staff was the real challenge. The information we needed was somewhere in the library but none of us had any clue of where to start. Hermione had a neatly organized list of possible topics to cover. I just let her point me in the right direction and followed her orders. Ron just grabbed books at random. Harry always seemed to wander to the Restricted Section, which piqued my interest too. You had to get special permission from a professor and that just wasn't an option. I had to force myself to stop thinking about all the hidden knowledge and lost magical arts buried in the historical library's protected books. I guess I was like my parents and uncle in that way.

The two weeks of searching had felt like a lifetime. Especially with the drastic change in weather over the course of our search. It was mid-December when the grounds of the school were transformed into a winter wonderland overnight. The castle was blanketed in the frosty glow of winter leaving everything buried under thick layers of fluffy white snow. Many owls that tried to deliver letters during the snowy weather had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid, who let me help take care of the cute little birds. The lake was frozen solid, tempting me to try to ice skate it. Fear of offending the magical creatures living in the lake held me off from actually doing it. Snowmen and snowball fights were sprinkled around the castle courtyards. Students took advantage of the slowing of the courses as winter break grew closer. The Weasley Twins even got detention for bewitching snowballs to hit Professor Quirrell in the back of his turban.

Uncle Jasper always said winter was one of the best seasons at Hogwarts. The thick stone of the castle walls kept the heat of blazing fires inside and the Common Room seemed to grow cozier by the hour. It was tempting to just skip class and nap near the fireplace on the plush scarlet rug. The drafty corridors and rickety classroom windows were the death of me forcing me to double up on tights and underclothes. My body just struggled to maintain warmth with constant shivering along with my annoying complaints. The potions classes with Slytherin in the dungeons were the worst. It was so cold down there that air would leak out my mouth in puffs of white. The warmth of the cauldrons had me huddling near it as a newborn kitten does with their mother. The Slytherins were particularly nasty the closer winter break got. I guess they were practicing their brattiness for Christmas morning.

Draco Malfoy was specifically more and more intolerable by the day. Losing to Gryffindor in the way that they had disgusted him, and he put all his effort into trying to get remarks about Harry and wide mouth tree frogs to catch on but it wasn't funny or clever enough to take off. The impression Harry made on the school for his broom and seeker skills left Draco seething with jealousy. Anyone and everyone was a target these days.

"I do feel so sorry," Draco announced loudly staring directly at Harry and I, "For all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

Upon sight of the tears filling my eyes, amusement glittered in Draco's as he sent me a nasty smirk. It felt like a cat watching a birdcage the way he looked at me.

Daphne caught my eye after Draco made his comment and quickly looked back to her potion, thin-lipped. We still hadn't spoken once since the first day of school. Her birthday was November 19th, and when I used an owl to deliver a small present to her she tossed it onto my desk in the next potions class. It was an emerald journal and a set of French lip glosses. They still sat at the bottom of my trunk.

"I'm inspired by your compassion, Draco," Blaise sarcastically responded, measuring the powdered lionfish spine.

"It's hard not to feel pity for some people," Draco said, turning his attention to Ron, "They are just overwhelmingly pathetic."

When he made the comment about not being wanted at Christmas, I hadn't gotten word from my Uncle due to the snowstorms preventing mail delivery. One day a crisp envelope was dropped in front of me during mail time instantly silencing Hermione, Harry, Ron, and myself. They knew how upset I was about never hearing a single word from my family. The letter was a single line in my Uncle Jasper's cursive penmanship stating, 'Estelle Vaile, Your attendance of the annual family holiday celebrations is strictly mandatory. Jasper Greengrass.' The lack of affection or the normal sign off of Uncle Jasper was painfully absent from the letter. My feelings were split in the middle between fear and hope. Part of me wanted to believe this was my uncle accepting me for who I am. The other part was dread of facing the adults that disappeared the moment I was sorted into my house. Ron was positive it was a trap to keep me from coming back to Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione were simply at a loss not truly understanding the complexities of pureblood society. At least I would be able to see the animals and plants I left behind at the start of term.

The Holidays were just around the corner and the spirit of Christmas filled the castle. Decorations were placed with care all along the walls and stairwells. Hagrid helped fill the Great hall with twelve ginormous evergreen trees that McGonagall and Flitwick magically decorated. Mistletoe was even hung to the delight of many of the students hoping for a holiday fling.

Hermione and I would be riding alone on the train this break as both Harry and Ron would be boarding at school for the holidays. We all decided it would probably be best if I didn't mention our investigation of Snape to my uncle as Snape was friends with many of the adults I would be seeing. Luggage in toe, we found ourselves in the Great Hall saying goodbye to the boys. We walked up on a tense game of wizards chess. Harry had gotten more and more into it over the past month or so.

"Knight to E-5," Harry commanded.

"Queen to E-5." Ron commanded in rebellion using his queen to smash Harry's knight. I rolled my eyes at the smugness in Ron's face. No one was ever going to beat him.

"That's totally barbaric," Hermione voiced a common complaint she had with the game. I wonder if she ever was going to get used to it at this point.

"That's wizard's chess. I see you've packed," Ron smirked looking to our luggage. I nodded nervously earning a pitying frown from Harry. It was a huge source of anxiety and turmoil to be returning home to the unexpected.

"See you haven't," Hermione countered. She was so determined with her search for information that I guess she hadn't heard about Ron's family. Jealousy washed over me when I thought about how interesting their experience would be.

"Change of plans. My parents decided to go to Romania to visit my brother, Charlie. He's studying dragons there!" Ron smiled.

"So jealous," I sighed dreamily imagining riding on the back of a dragon, "I want to study dragons over the break."

"You're a first-year. We barely survived a troll," Hermione reminded me with wide eyes and then turning to the boys sternly, "Good. You can help Harry, then. He's going to the library for information on Nicholas Flamel."

Groans filled the air and Ron complained, "We've looked a hundred times!"

Hermione leaned forward and lowered her voice, "Not in the restricted section. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," I laughed at the new side of Hermione. I followed her out of the Hall and began discussing her Christmas traditions in the muggle world on the way to the train. Why would a reindeer's nose light up? ———————————————————————————————

The train ride was actually fun compared to the last experience. Neville, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Hermione, and myself filled up a compartment. Pavarti had joined her sister for the ride home. The other Gryffindors picked up on my fears waiting for me at the station but didn't dig too deeply into it and decided to distract me instead. It was so different from the ride to Hogwarts with my childhood friends as it was so relaxing and warm. Dean entertained us by drawing quick, silly sketches of things we requested like Snape doing ballet or McGonagall interacting with non-animagus cats. He was extremely talented. I slipped him a sickle to commission a drawing of Hagrid taking care of owls with colds to give him for Christmas. I french braided both Lavender and Hermione's hair, which was admittedly more difficult than I expected with the uncontrollable texture of Hermione's curls. We even played a few rounds of exploding snap. But once the cabin next to us asked us to stop with the loud game, we switched to passing around a box of every flavor beans that Seamus had brought.

The London buildings started to pass in the window, and Daphne appeared in the doorway of our compartment. Scoffing at the unwelcome glares of my housemates, she turned to me with an unimpressed raised eyebrow, "If you are smart you'd make sure my father doesn't see you keeping this kind of company. Don't ruin my Christmas by pissing him off the second he sees you."

"Uh," I stammered unsure of what to do trying to ignore the taste of ink in my mouth from the last bean I ate. Daphne's icy expression scanned me from head to toe unimpressed with my response.

"We arrive in five minutes. Get your stuff and follow me," She explained talking to me like I was an idiot. Her lip curled in disgust as she looked over my friends again, "I'll...wait in the hall."

The door slid shut behind her and I couldn't help but be thankful she let me have a moment alone to say goodbye to everyone. I started with the boys who worked together to pull my trunk down from the storage above. Lavender was overdramatic about saying goodbye but it was starting to be less annoying and more endearing. Maybe this is how Daphne felt about Pansy. Hermione pulled me into a tight hug with the tight French braids holding her mass of hair away from my face. Normally it would tickle the tip of my nose. She knew I wasn't going to be able to write. It just wasn't worth pissing off my family.

Daphne only muttered a few complaints when I met her in the hall with my things. I was smart enough to wear a classic blue velvet dress and purple wool robes rather than the school uniforms most of the first years had decided to wear. There was no need to rub it in everyone's face that I wasn't a Slytherin like they wanted me to be. The train slowed to a halt and my cousin and I found the people I grew up alongside. If they bothered to respond to my presence it was a simple sneer because they were too busy looking for their parents. Even Slytherin kids got excited to see their families for the holidays, which would probably surprise Ron.

The commotion of the platform made it hard to spot my Uncle. Kids were cheering and laughing telling exciting stories of their year so far to their parents. Daphne snootily pushed her way through the crowd and I followed behind nervously. I caught Hermione's eye and waved to her parents. Muggles, and it showed with their discomfort on the platform. I nearly slammed into the back of Daphne not realizing she had found Jasper. She broke her ice queen character and hugged him tightly for a few seconds. They shared exciting whisperings about the things she had seen and the ride here leaving me to stand back awkwardly.

"It's good to have you home, angel," Uncle Jasper smiled at his eldest child trailing off as he saw me. The smile slid from his face and held out his arms to the two of us to apparate back to Greengrass Manor. Poppi zapped onto the platform whisking away our things within a few seconds.

"Estelle," He acknowledged me as I gripped his arm, "We have much to discuss."


	4. Chapter Three: Return To Greengrass Estate

I stood before my Uncle Jasper who passed the length behind his desk near the windows in his study. The light shined in through the floor to ceiling windows and made his light blonde hair glimmer. When we arrived there was no time wasted in bringing me into his study to discuss everything I've done.

"Sit and do not speak until I tell you to," He hissed at me attempting to control his temper. I sat in the chair and waited for him to start yelling at me. But he just paced the back windowed wall of the room in silent anger leaving me to fester in anxieties. Uncle Jasper rarely yelled at my cousins and me growing up. Daphne got her icy demeanor from her father and only in extreme situations would it ever slip. Like when Daphne ignored the rule against going into the basement rooms, or the time I got lost in the forest surrounding the estate when I didn't come home at sundown as the rules stated. I don't think he'd ever yelled at Astoria. She was too small, and sickly to even fuss at without feeling as if you kicked a puppy. It's exactly why she got into the most trouble.

I wasn't allowed to enter his study unless he allowed it. There were too many confidential ministry documents and rare, delicate artifacts and books for children to mess with. Like the rest of the house, it was drenched in sunlight making the white walls seem even more untouched and clean. It was a simple box shape with the walls covered in a huge floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with tombs, marble busts, glass-encased skulls and taxidermies, and boxes holding magical tools. In the center of the room was his massive desk stacked high with papers and books in a grey wood, with a navy velvet seat behind it. In front of the desk were two simpler navy chairs, with one filled with even more books.

I almost wondered if one of these books had the answers about Nicholas Flamel but the seething pacing of my Uncle took up all the space in my brain. Occasionally, he would pause and stare at me before pacing again. Finally, he froze and gripped the back of his desk chair staring down at me.

"There is so much that I am struggling to find a place to begin," Uncle Jasper said in a near whisper tone filling my eyes with terrified tears, "You had so much potential."

"I raise you and you thank me by becoming a Gryffindor. Do you realize how humiliating learning the results of your sorting was? It's shameful," He hissed raising his voice to a normal volume. Drops of tears fell onto my lap.

"I didn't have a choice. It was the hat," I weakly protested without looking up at him.

"Everything is a choice. Only a fool would believe we are merely spectators to the life fate plays before our eyes," He seethed raising his voice, "I feared you were more like your self righteous father than your mother. I see my fears were right. Perhaps if I encouraged your mother's spirit in you more you would actually be a Slytherin."

"B-but," I gulped looking up with watery eyes, "She wasn't a Slytherin. She was in Ravenclaw."

"No, but she acted like a Slytherin," Uncle Jasper scoffed looking down at the photo of himself and his siblings on his desk, "At least until your selfish father ruined her. He's dead and he still ruins the only thing left of poor Cordelia. A Gryffindor. In my own home. It's... disgusting."

"If you want, I can leave," I sniffed tears starting to drip down the curl of my cheeks, "You won't ever have to see me again. I'm sorry."

Looking down on me sharply, his mouth turned into a frown and he sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. With grace, he moved to lean against the front of the desk before my shaking body. He was so much bigger than me. A moment passed before Uncle Jasper spoke again calmly, "No. I am a man of my word and I swore to your mother I would raise you safely. Narcissa and I both did. Besides, you are the last of the Vaile. Another family would claim you before you had the chance to finish packing your bags. It would reflect back onto us terribly. If any other pureblood child had the sorting you did, their parents would have already burnt their names off their tree. Count your blessings you are who you are. The only good thing your father's done for you."

"I don't understand," I weeped, wanting to throw myself into one of his warm hugs despite the glare he looked down at me with, "I thought you were mad I'm in Gryffindor."

"You'll understand one day," He nodded to me moving back to behind his desk and into his chair with a tense jaw, "I am more than mad, Estelle. This goes so much further past the simple emotion of anger. The little girl that would cry behind my legs when the other children were mean to her was sorted into the house of the brave? The thought of something so foul never even crossed my mind. You've always been so meek and gentle. I wonder if I even really know who you are. Where is the girl I've clothed and raised for so many years? Because the one before me is a stranger.... For a while, I was going to toss you out into the world for the shame you have brought onto this house. Refuse you as my blood. Erase you from my mind entirely. But it's more complicated than that even if my fondness will never be what it was once. You are still a Greengrass and one of the rare true purebloods left in this world. There is much to discuss moving forward from this catastrophe."

"I've heard a lot of stories. I wonder if they are all true claims," Uncle Jasper folded his hands peering at me coldly with interest, "My daughter wrote to me of your exploits, even if gossip of your shameful actions had already been relayed to myself. Defeating a troll? As a first-year? Maybe not all your potential will be destroyed by that house."

"On Halloween? Well, Harry and Ron really did most of the-," I stammered wondering how much Daphne had told him. It didn't even hit me that my friends were another mistake in his eyes until he raised an angry hand to cut me off.

"Not only getting more attention from your antics with the troll than you did with your shameful sorting but befriending the children you did. A Mudblood? Have you no respect? A Weasley? I can't decide if the mudblood or the Weasley is worse. I've told you countless times the shame that family brings onto the title of pureblood. Mudbloods are a plague onto the Wizarding world diluting our blood, wreaking selfish havoc, and erasing century-long traditions. There is nothing worse than a Muggleborn. Did you listen to a single thing I ever taught you? Your tutors said you were slower than your cousins in some areas but I don't believe you to be that stupid. Worst of all, you befriend the very person who brought down The Great Dark Lord, who aimed to remedy the Wizarding World from the horrible state it's fallen into at the hands of blood traitors and mudbloods!" He snarled coldly shrinking me in my seat as if he was screaming down at me, "It's as if sorting into such a disgusting house wasn't enough for you. You must want to hurt your cousins and I. Have we not given you the best life with everything you could have ever wanted? Do you find joy in the sadness you cause?"

"No!" I blubbered frantically rising to my feet, "I never wanted to hurt anyone. I love my family."

"Then take responsibility for your actions." Uncle Jasper frowned looking at my distress unaffected and icily, "You will have a chance to redeem yourself slightly at the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve ball. You will deny any ties to your new friends and use the troll story to your advantage. You are the first Greengrass to be sorted into Gryffindor, but.... you aren't just a Greengrass, are you? You've never been one in name. You have Vaile blood. Luckily, we will have more possibilities to smooth this scuff on the Greengrass name with your Vaile legacy but not much. Use it. Study your family. Manipulate people into thinking you have more promise than it is worth dwelling on your house."

"Yes, sir," I nodded weakly. My Uncle sighed at my response lazily tapping an empty teacup with his wand. Quickly it filled to the top with dark, steaming coffee that reddened his cheeks when he took the first sip.

"That being said," Uncle Jasper transitioned lightly as if he didn't just make me sob, "You will only be a Greengrass in maternal connection. From now on you have no claim to any Greengrass vault or influence. While I have never seen the vault myself as it lays deep in Gringotts, The Vaile fortune is rumored to be able to give you and whatever you may spawn one day a comfortable life without work and resources to cover your education's requirements. Once of age you will inherit and live at the Vaile Manor or whichever of your family's property you decide to use. The Greengrass legacy simply cannot provide for a Gryffindor like yourself. I'm sure you understand." 

"Now," Jasper frowned at my shocked lack of response, "Please see yourself out. I have much to do before the day is over."

"I'm so sorry," I apologized bowing my head and attempted to sound like I wasn't falling apart. I wanted to tell him I loved him but it died in my chest next to the shattered pieces of my heart. Jasper would not meet my eyes as I turned to walk out of the room but the tension was suffocating to the both of us. My feet shuffled across the lavish navy carpet until I slipped out the room into the long corridor. My heart quivered the moment I realized Daphne was gracefully perched in the windowsill across from the door no doubt trying to listen to our conversations. The room was charmed with a privacy spell but you could feel the vibrations of yelling in the walls outside. Her pearly smile curled across her face predatorily. Even at twelve, she was beautiful. It made you wonder if the Greengrass family had veala blood. Must have skipped me.

"So, did he kick you out?" She asked. My face warmed irritably, still reeling from the conversation. I wonder if she even tried to say hello to Astoria yet or if the temptation of snooping was too great.

"Leave me alone, Daphne! I have enough to be upset about right now," I shouted at her. Without giving her a chance to respond, I sped down the high ceilinged front corridors.

The sounds of my feet echoed in the heavy air of the entrance foyer as I ran across the balcony the double staircase connected to. With a few familiar turns, and one of the narrow stairways, my body threw itself into the familiar door of my bedroom in a burst of sobs. The slam of the door behind me wouldn't bother anyone due to my bedroom being the only one on the third floor. My bed shook from the impact of my body weight being thrown onto it.

The plush bedding and pillows muffled the sounds of my steadily increasing hysteria. There was so stopping my weeping and there was no point trying. My arms slammed against the decorative pillows desperately. Whimpers left my mouth with pops of hot spit onto the pillow burying my face. The howling pain in my chest crawled out my mouth and eyes for release. My eyes didn't slow or stop leaking thick tears for a moment. The pain was steady and consuming. My Uncle's rejection and anger played over and over in my head and when it wasn't there were thoughts of loneliness.

The cries of an orphan weeping for a home were relentless. I craved someone to gather me in their arms and soothe me gently until my eyes grew heavy. I imagined my mother, dark-haired and graceful, running her hands through my waves while singing gentle melodies. I imagined my father puffing up with anger that someone so easily broke his daughter's heart and wrapping me up in a safe embrace. Curses fell from my lips for the higher being that gave me a life fighting for a family against powerful things beyond my control.

The violent weeping never slowed or calmed but my eyes stung and grew heavier with each heave. The sun no longer shined through the large windows of the room and the shadows of early twilight stretched across my room. Familiar smells and sights lulled my eyes to shut into a near dreamless sleep. The only thing that filled my dreams was the sound of a man humming off-key. But by the time my eyes opened the next morning, the sound of the familiar melody was pushed out of my mind.

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Despite being gone for months and my entire world transforming, Greengrass Estate was unchanged in a way that almost felt physically painful to me. The memories of my childhood and the world before the sorting easily played in my mind when I crossed the sight of each location. I tried my best not to think of the past. Anything to avoid falling apart like last night. Despite knowing that Astoria was the only other early riser when she wasn't feeling ill. I stayed in the comforts of my bedroom until around the time I knew Uncle Jasper and Daphne would wake up.

Dyron Greengrass had taken advantage of the growing fear in the magical community to mingle with the muggles and invented a delivery plan of groceries and other necessities for the magical world. Since then the Greengrass' monopoly on most Wizarding agriculture has blossomed into a wealthy, ancient Wizarding house with four branches around the world. The English, French, Russian, and recently disgraced, Americans all work together to run the family business smoothly. At this point, it basically runs itself beyond the monthly meetings and reviews. Greengrass hands just collect the profits. Uncle Jasper, although the heir, decided to balance the family business with a very hands-on career at the ministry. The Greengrass estate was a clear display of the wealth of this family. Yet it was also home to them.

I missed my bedroom so much while at Hogwarts, especially before Halloween. The Greengrass family had been building their abundance of wealth since the time Hogwarts came into existence in the early tenth century.

My bedroom was as beautiful as the rest of the house, inspired by the seductive grandeur of French baroque style like in Versailles. The white walls were embellished with a mural depicting softly shaded plant life with foggy hills on the horizon. Occasionally a bird or butterfly would be perched on one of the painted trees. There were large windows generously placed along the walls, framed by thick curtains overlooking the gardens. Sunlight and time had faded the bright shades of the forest scene into muted pastels. It made me like it even more.

I woke in the bed in the middle of the room on top of the bedding. My four-poster bed was white wood with carved pillars creating a canopy made of slightly aged lace. The headboard was upholstered with light blue cotton that matched the fabric of the flower embroidered bedspread and pillows. It was delicate and ethereal when paired with the rest of the room. There was a vine growing on one of the pillars that bloomed light pink flowers in the spring and summer. I added that when it kept threatening to overtake the walls of the greenhouse. In the middle of the canopy, ceiling hung a stained glass mobile of butterflies that my uncle got me when I was a toddler.

Beside my bed were two simple wooden nightstands. The one on the right was stacked with worn books about a variety of subjects, vials of dreamless sleep potions, and a glass vase of dried baby's breath flowers. The other nightstand, on the side I slept on, had a few pictures of my late parents, a large candle for light, and a small box to put jewelry in before bed. It felt better when my parent's image watched over me at night. One picture was taken at the ruins they were studying at, another on their wedding day, and the last one they were holding me right after I was born. I had a fourth picture of my mother happily pregnant with me and my dad goofily pointing at her bump at Hogwarts.

The corner of the room was curved as one of the circular towers of the building went through my room with a small loveseat and side table residing in the nook. The table was covered with half-melted candles from the late-night reading done on the sofa. The walls of the nook were covered in large windows, framed with forest green curtains. A large array of jarred plants sat on the thin window ceils.

Across from my bed, was a small writing desk with a simple wooden chair tucked into it. The chair had two velvet pillows on the seat for comfort. Books, parchment, and dried plants covered the surface of the desk messily. Above the desk were small pictures, posters and paintings taped on the walls in a messy collage.

Tucked in the other corner of the room beside a window were a white vanity with various potions, perfumes, oils and little boxes carefully arranged. Poppi kept my vanity clean and organized the various hair barrettes, ties, ribbons, and other accessories in the drawers or boxes. A circular tray housed a silver-plated brush, mirror, and comb set. As I grow older I'm sure more and more makeup and perfumes will gather on the vanity but I, for now, didn't really know the first thing about doing my makeup. Next to the vanity was a tall table with a radio connected to the wizard stations. The metal horn of the device was powder blue with tiny flowers painted on the curved panels.

The rest of the room was relatively bare, with two doors on one wall. There was a carved fireplace in between the two doors for the cooler winter months. One was for the bathroom and the other was for the small closet containing my clothes. The wooden floor was covered in a tightly woven cream rug that Poppi has had to scrub dirt and mud from. More times than I'm willing to admit.

This third-floor room was removed from the other people of the house enough that it always felt like a warm hug and break from the judgments of my family. No one really bothered coming in here regularly. A space that was mine and mine alone. Simply sitting inside its walls blanketed me in comfort.

The privacy alone was enough to make me yearn for it. Sharing a room for the first time wasn't easy, especially with Hermione Granger. She was the cleanest person I'd ever met and frequently gave me an earful about leaving clothes and my other possession sprawled around my bed. I didn't see the big deal. House elves came and tidied up while we were in class everyday. There was no need to clean if someone else was going to do it for me.

Poppi had brought me a simple breakfast of toast with jam and fruit on a tray to eat in my bed. Her eyes showed her concern about my puffy eyes I earned from a long night of tears. She didn't bring it up but in a squeaky voice, she told me that she was happy to have me home. There was a brief conversation about the state of my greenhouse and barn but she left me to my thoughts as the sun peeked through the curtained windows.

Springing out of bed I flung the curtains wide excited to see the beautiful gardens I'd so dearly missed. The morning fog was thick and a light layer of snow covered the normally strikingly green view. After experiencing the thick snowfall of Hogwarts, the snow here seemed like nothing.

While I ate my breakfast, I flipped through a couple of books hoping to see any word of Nicholas Flamel but had no luck. Eager to get on my way before Uncle Jasper or Daphne rose, I quickly dressed in multiple layers of thick black tights, white socks, a plum wool skirt, and a warm black sweater. I threw a grey beret on my head that matched the scarf and gloves I paired it with, black snow boots and black robes that fell to my calf. The robes had a silver dragonfly brooch pinned to the front.

Daphne was grumpy in the morning and crossing her path would mark me for emotional death. I sped through the house and out the back door spotting the glass dome of the barn in the corner of the gardens. The glass was fogged so anyone looking at it would just assume it was a typical greenhouse overgrown with magical vines but within the structure was a small variety of magical and non magical pets. As a budding magical zoologist, my Uncle supported my passion and genetic disposition for the natural world by gifting me with the barn on my seventh birthday. Well, the barn was already there because of the family horse but he gave me full reign over the structure. Over the years a few different animals have come into my possession and I knew exactly which ones would be excited or indifferent to my return.

The creek of the heavy iron clad door alerted the animals to my arrival and once inside there was a flurry of motion bustling toward me. A great weight knocked me to the ground and my vision was clouded with a mass of orange fur and the sound of high pitched chattering in my ear. A heavy laugh fell from my lips. I wrapped my arms around the animal that was excitedly wiggling against me. It was the first animal I ever raised on my own. Tom the orange fox was abandoned in the woods surrounding our house as a pup and I took it under my wing. Out of all the animals I've raised, Tom was the most affectionate, despite his slight temper and impulsive nature.

Rising to my feet despite Tom's complaints, I walked over to the white horse that gave a soft neigh when I walked in. Zeus was the family horse and was aging quickly. I could only hope for a few more years. The days of riding in the forest with him were just a memory now. His sweet temperament never lessened despite his decline in health. In the stall beside Zeus, Ms. Willow leaned over and nudged my shoulder with her colossal snout. She was a leucrotta, a magical beast that resembled a massive moose in appearance that could mimic the voices of humans. This skill burst out of her mouth in the voice of Poppi as I ran my hands along the thick winter coat on her neck. I would never have a full conversation with her but the mimicking was interesting. On more than one occasion she spooked me with it.

Across the room was the sound of a pop as my Diricawl, or a Do-Do bird as the muggles named it, apparated on top the long wooden table in the center of the room eyeing me cautiously. Despite taking care of it for two years now, Navy refused to trust me but I couldn't be mad. It was just the nature of her species. In the rafters of the barn was a cluster of four bats sleeping peacefully unconcerned with my return, and the aloof Greengrass family owl, Baron.

The rest of the morning and afternoon was spent with beasts hiding away from humans. The warmth of the barn was more welcoming than the cool tones of the main house with spiteful eyes lurking just around the corner. I never thought that I could feel even more unwelcomed in those halls and rooms than I did before I left for school. I've gone from a nuisance to a curse to my family. A Vaile hiding from the glamour of the Greengrass opulence. My life was spent in two parts before I left; one part for the rare moments of warmth and the other tiptoeing in a world that wanted to spit me out. Now the warmth has all shriveled up and begun to decay. But the overwhelming need to gain approval and love from these people didn't die along with it. It could only twist my heart into a painful knot hoping they will soon change their minds.

Uncle Jasper's words of me finding joy in their pain wouldn't leave my thoughts as I laid tucked into a fresh pile of hay with Tom napping on my lap. I loved them all so much. I loved Uncle Jasper. I loved Daphne. I loved Astoria. Embarrassingly, I still loved the Malfoy family despite the confusing back and forth relationship with Draco. They helped raise me and I couldn't remember a time I didn't know Draco. I even loved Aunt Fiona, Uncle Vincent and Crabbe even if they rarely showed me any kindness. But with the shout of a hat, they all stopped loving me. I guess their affection for me wasn't so interwoven into their soul like mine was.

The moments of love and joy were scattered between each other but they existed at least. When Pansy wasn't around to be the better option or before they got close, Daphne and I did almost everything together. The only thing she wouldn't do with me was to get dirty outside or play with the 'smelly animals'. Astoria was gone getting medical help so often that all of our pre-hogwarts learning was together. We learned to write, read, and other necessary wizarding skills with our private tutor. The etiquette and 'young lady' classes always ended up being entertaining somehow until she didn't perform as well as me in something. The only thing I had over her was dancing, piano, and social manners due to her icy demeanor. Everything else came to her like a memory from a previous life. She was a blossoming lady through and through. It was rare that she ever held my parents over me, unlike most of the kids we grew up with. Even if she didn't lift a finger standing up for me, she felt like a big sister; a big sister that wasn't afraid to hurt your feelings or step on your toes.

Astoria was the sweetest of the Greengrass family. Her younger age and cursed blood held her back from a lot but she made up for it in her childlike enthusiasm. The greenhouse was always too boring and dirty for her but she loved to learn about the different animals in the barn. I always brought flowers to her sickbed in the hospital though. Only recently did she stop playing with dolls but before that, we would create complex, and dramatic plots.

Uncle Jasper had a warm heart for his daughters, and previously, myself behind the serious scholarly attitude he masks himself in. At dinner, he would always actively listen to whatever one of us babbled on about. It could have been anything from Daphne discussing the newest gossip or fashion trend she learned from Witch Weekly or Pansy's older sister, Astoria talking about a new painting or the play by play of a game with wizarding children her age, or myself excitedly discussing magical creatures, lost magic, or the growth of a plant in the greenhouse. Often he stayed up late working on stuff for the Department of Mysteries that never were revealed to us and wasn't seen until the afternoon on his days off. The constant bags under his eyes showed just how thin he spread himself.

The Malfoy's were interesting; always interacting with a cool distance and calculation. Lucius was especially like this. He was very clear with his opinions on my parents, and once even claimed that if they weren't so selfish over their secrets perhaps Voldemort would have survived that fateful night. The moment I appeared publicly with the family he threw all of that out the window and boasted about the long history of my family tree. Reputation and influence were paramount care for Lucius. Narcissa was the same way but held a small warmth to her, especially regarding her family. She was born to be a mother. The maternal love she had for Draco filled me with jealousy. My mother was a rare and difficult topic for the Narcissa, but from the information I've collected over the years, they were inseparable. The only thing that separated them was the war and my father which always remained to be a forbidden topic. But I was the only thing left of her best friend. Days spent with her always felt like a special treat as a little girl. Draco was a mixture of his parents but leaned more toward his father. It was like he tossed a coin to decide if he would be nice to me or not each day. As we grew older he settled into the nastier side of himself but as kids, he was actually sweet.

My mother's sister Fiona and her family were complicated. It was hard to understand how I still even had a portion of affection for them. They were the cruelest out of the pureblood families about my origins. It shouldn't be a surprise considering Fiona's best friend was the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange. But they were still family, and after living as an orphan those words carry so much weight over me.

There was so much I've grown to love about the people who raised me and so suddenly the fragile pieces of family I had were shattered into a thousand bits. Didn't they realize I really did just want to make them proud? Didn't they realize I had no say in what happened? It was hard not to feel guilty over the close-knit friend group I had become a part of and the way the people of Gryffindor house made me feel. Especially my embarrassing crush on George Weasley, who I've only managed to actually speak to a handful of times. Talk to him? I could barely breathe around him! He's just so friendly, and tall, and cute, and sweet and funny, and-.... Get it together, Estelle.

Why couldn't they just be happy that I've found and settled into life at Hogwarts? Why couldn't they be impressed that my friends and I took down a troll as first years? As much as I loved my family, the love I had for Ron, Hermione and Harry had grown to match it in just a handful of months. The complicated shame of knowing they were one of- No, the best things that had ever happened to me made my skin grow clammy.

Maybe if I was the perfect daughter and the perfect friend I could have both lives. Gryffindor at Hogwarts, and Pureblood during breaks. The only thing stopping my two lives from being at peace were the beliefs of the pureblood supremacist. With each passing day, I hated it more and more. It took my parents away from me, my family and now it's trying to take away the first consistent friendships I've ever had.

Eventually, I dried my cheeks and made my way over to the greenhouse. It was separated into a few different rooms for various climates but the humid, hot room was the room with the prettiest flowers. I quickly had to shed my thick robes and a layer of tights while I worked on two vases of flowers. It was nothing to gawk at but maybe it could be the peace offering Daphne and Astoria need and we could all spend Christmas together happily. It was Astoria's favorite day of the year after all. On my orders, Poppi placed each vase in their respected girl's bedroom. Nerves twinged over me but hope overpowered it. I shuffled back into the main house wanting to regain feeling in my fingers again.

Unlike the dark and unwelcoming attack of wealth found at Malfoy Manor, Greengrass Estate seduced it's guest with untouchable, heavenly opulence. The black, dark greens, and greys of Malfoy Manor were nowhere to be found in the white, powder blue, and light greens of the estate. The Greengrass House was heavily inspired by French designs. There were embossed ceilings, impressionist murals on the ceilings and paneled walls, and twinkling candlelight chandeliers. The high ceilings and airy windows bathed the interior of the estate in bright sunlight during the day and mysterious moonlight at night. It wasn't as big as Malfoy Manor but there were around fifteen rooms, not including the ballroom, which had never been used besides for casual birthday parties for Daphne, Astoria, and myself.

Hoping to avoid crossing paths with anyone I avoided main hallways and foyers on my way to the library. It was across from the small music room and next to the room of magical portraits and the massive tapestry of the family tree. I knew at some point I was going to have to see if I was blasted off it but I hated going in there. The people in the portraits all tried to speak to you at once until you simply gave up trying to converse and left. Uncle Jasper was the only person who ever really used the grand library other than myself and he kept most of the books he needed for his work in his office.

The library was one of my favorite rooms in the house. The Greengrass family had collected a fair share of books throughout their history. The books were housed mainly on four, floor to ceiling bookcases built into the wall creating a T shape to the shelves leading into the cozy study area. There must have been one or two thousand books in the room but many had rotten and become illegible due to age. No one ever bothered to clean the shelves out . There were two thin sliding ladders on each side of shelves to reach the higher ones. The large arched windows cast bright light into the room amplified by the white, boiserie walls with delicate flowers and designs painted in the middle of each panel. The sunlight looked beautiful on both the silver detailing and the various white marble sculptures and busts. In the study area, there were a few desks made of hand-carved warm colored wood with writing supplies and candles waiting to be used. Warmth hugged you as heat spread out from the marble fireplace charmed to make accidental fires impossible. Three sofas were arranged to face the fireplace on top of an ornamental looking rug. The sofa's fabric was light blue. A small coffee table sat in the middle of the sofas with a single set of Wizard's Chess in white marble.

Using Ron's method of just grabbing random books off the shelf, I settled on the rug with multiple towers of books circled around me, to half-heartedly skim the pages. At least Hogwarts was organized, the books here were just shoved where they could fit and many were too damaged to even read. By the time the sun was down, I had skimmed two books about Goblin Wars, one about vampires, three about the importance of maintaining pureblood, a handful containing scary-looking magic, one about love potions, one about the weakness of muggleborns, and three about the history of magic in Britain centuries ago. Around twelve books were either rotted or in languages I couldn't understand. But despite all the various information I found, there was no mention of Nicholas Flamel anywhere. Uncle Jasper would be able to tell me in seconds without a doubt but my friends and I agreed he couldn't be trusted. He and Snape did run in the same circle after all. They were housemates at Hogwarts.

"Pardon Mistress Stelli," Poppy gently popped into the room mispronouncing my name which I couldn't deny was endearing to me despite my Uncle hating it, "You are requested for supper. Right away, said Master Jasper!"

"Uh," I blinked at the little house elf wishing I misheard her, "I'll head over now. Thank you."

"No problem at all, Mistress!" Poppi gushed happily popping back into the kitchen no doubt. My stomach flopped as I thought about sitting across from my recently partly-estranged family. I hadn't even seen Astoria yet. It was going to hurt too much when she copied her sister. She always did. Deciding to just leave the messy piles of books laid across the floor I headed down the hall to the casual dining room. There was a formal dining room off the ballroom for large events but we rarely needed it. The casual dining room was hardly casual but it was smaller with a table that could fit a little over ten probably. It was one of the only rooms in the house without windows but the mirrored walls reflected the floating candles and fireplace beautifully.

It was silent when I entered the room and the sound of my steps echoed against the constellation patterned tile. I caught Astoria's eye who immediately stared down at her plate refusing to make eye contact with me. Her mouth was turned into an angry frown at my betrayal to the family. She was too little to understand I didn't have a choice and probably assumed I didn't want to be a part of the family anymore. Daphne's icy eyes followed my moves in lazy interest as she paused reading her book on French poetry. She could already speak French and Spanish, and I struggled so hard that the language tutor gave up on me years ago. Uncle Jasper's expression was tight as he stiffly gestured to the empty seat beside him facing his daughters. My lungs felt tight as the sound of the chair being pulled out shrieked into the empty room echoing slightly. Sitting into the seat I tried to ignore the awkward energy in the room. The failure of who I didn't become at Hogwarts was the elephant in the room. It was almost as if the girl I could have been and they wanted me to become; was sitting in the seat next to me as a slaughtered ghost.

"Thank you for inviting me to dine with you all," I politely nodded, wincing at the stiffness in my voice despite my best efforts to seem casual. The plates were already served with herb-crusted fish and roasted potatoes. Astoria hated fish and was having a special meal of cheese pasta and potatoes. She still refused to look at me. They started eating the moment I sat down and the clinging of silverware against china was even worse than the deafening silence.

"It looks wonderful. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," I tried again before taking a small bite of fish when no one responded to my polite small talk. Daphne scoffed lightly under her breath turning the page of her book.

"Daphne put away your book. You are being impolite," Uncle Jasper scolded speaking for the first time. His stern voice hung in the air with its thickness. She gave a tiny roll of her eyes before setting her book to the side and we all pretended to not notice.

"No, we all just arrived moments before yourself," Jasper responded. No one was sure about how to continue. So we fell into silence eating as quickly as we could without turning away from table etiquette. My mind had nothing to distract itself from listing all the things I should hate about myself that pushed them away. A sharp kick to my shin made me give out a high yelp and jolt in my seat suddenly. Astoria was glaring at me from across the table giving up on the silent treatment.

"Are you alright?" Jasper asked eyebrows raised and I gave an uncomfortable nod.

"Just bit my tongue. I'm sorry," I covered sending a frown to the nine-year-old girl glaring at me. She kicked me a couple more times before the dinner was over but I was able to hold in my reaction. Daphne seemed to find great amusement in the interaction but floated off to her chambers the moment we were dismissed. Astoria was quicker than I remembered and I struggled to catch up with her. She was able to climb a whole flight of stairs off the dining room before I was able to grab her shoulder. I panted slightly from running up the steep stairs and caught my breath before speaking.

"Astoria, please I don't want to fight. Not with you," I begged to feel pathetic looking for mercy from the little girl. She turned up her nose and shook my hand off her shoulder.

"Dad says you betrayed us when you picked Gryffindor. Why would you do that to me? We were sisters!" She passionately burst out placing her hands on her hips. If Daphne was the ice queen, her little sister was a pure spark.

"I didn't get to pick! I didn't even have a say in it! There isn't anything I could have done to change it," I tried to explain against the increasing temper tantrum of the little girl. Her skin looks grey and clammy. She must have just gotten home from a stay at Mugos. I don't want to upset her and disrupt her healing. Placing both my hands on either shoulder gently I frowned at her, "You know how much I love you, Tori. Please let's just talk about this."

"I don't have anything to say to a blood traitor like you!" She screamed, spitting in my face before turning on her heel and running down the hallway. My jaw dropped in shock as the ball of spit ran down my cheek. Using the sleeve of my sweater I dabbed it away and crumpled onto the top stair. A few tears rolled down my cheek and I found myself wondering what my friends were doing right now for a break. Harry and Ron were probably having a blast on their holiday at Hogwarts. Hermione was probably babbling about the things she had learned to her parents. All I wanted to do was write to them but if my Uncle knew I used the family owl to contact 'shameful' characters he would have my head. I was balancing on a thin line.

When my strength collected itself, just enough to slump up a level and to the other side of the house to my bedroom; I imagined what they would say. It did cheer me up a little. I could just imagine Ron's reaction to a spoiled little girl spitting on me now. A few laughs even fell from my lips as I opened my bedroom door. Those brief laughs died the moment I caught sight of my bed. In the center of the mattress were the flowers I put together for Daphne but they were half burnt. The ash of the crumbling flowers rubbed into my bedding staining it with the dark grey powder. My hand reached out taking the burned bouquet in my hands and I threw them at the ground.


	5. Chapter Four: Christmas Approaches

The next couple of days were just as difficult as they were boring. My only entertainment was tending to the barn, playing piano, and unsuccessfully trying to find anything useful in the library. Searching aimlessly wasn't fun without the others. It just felt draining and pointless. My laziness wanted to just give up and ask my uncle but Harry, Ron, and Hermione would kill me if I took a risk purely out of laziness.

Daphne had mostly acted like I was a ghost, just like her father was. She was rarely ever at the estate during the days and often spent the night over at the Parkinson Mansion. I'm just glad no one ever bothered coming over here, especially Pansy and Draco. The days inched closer and closer to the Annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, which I learned I was still invited to attend shockingly. Maybe Narcissa didn't totally hate my guts. Still, the thought of being surrounded by my bullies and the adults that look down on me emboldened with alcohol made me so scared I wondered if I really was a fraud of a Gryffindor. Uncle Jasper already laid out the expectations for the evening which could be summarized as me being a perfectly behaved girl that did not speak unless spoken to and when I did speak I would always know the right thing to respond. Even the normal excitement I had for dancing and beautiful dress robes was without a single spark of positivity.

Maybe that's why the dreams started, or maybe it was because my Uncle forgot to order me another supply of the sleeping potion I've taken since I was little to stop my vivid dreams and sleepwalking. Each night my mind was filled with flashes of the thick, dark forest surrounding Malfoy Manor and the overwhelming urge to wander into it. It was confusing and left me with sweat-soaked sheets every morning. I was still too scared to ask about the potion from my Uncle.

Astoria's pain of her misunderstanding about the sorting had her focusing her time and effort pranking me. They weren't really pranks though. Not fun natured like the schemes Fred and George performed. There was no humor but only ruthlessness. It was mostly her putting food in my bed or shoes and breaking my things. She even used her paint set to write childish insults across my vanity mirror like, 'Stinky!' or, 'Ugly!' It hurt a lot but I tried to remember how naive and manipulatable she was at her age. Of course, she listened to what her sister and father said about it. Why wouldn't she? It didn't change how it made me feel though. None of my attempts at creating peace were even slightly successful. All the thoughts I had about myself were disgusting and sharp. It is hard to love anything about yourself when your life was crumbling apart due to who you were as a person.

A seamstress came to the Estate one morning to get the necessary alterations for our dress robes. They were less traditional robes and more just ball gowns appropriate for an eleven-year-old, a twelve-year-old and a nine-year-old. Designers actually looked forward to dressing the lucky few for this annual ball. If the Malfoys did anything it was to make their presence seem exclusive and honorable. The dresses were beautiful even if it was just for a handful of young girls. Daphne's dress was the most fashionable, as she had been in touch with the designer demanding and sending clippings from magazines. It was emerald, obviously. The fabric of the skirt was floaty tulle flowing out of the high waistline in large leaf-like folds with silk flowers sewn into the fabric. Under the many layers of tulle was a simple tan silk skirt. The top of the dress was an elaborate emerald lace overtop of a flesh-toned fabric that matched the underskirt. It was definitely a statement that she was starting to grow up. Her little sister's dress was much sweeter in a petal pink tulle fabric with butterflies embroidered into the skirt. The top was the same tulle with off the shoulder puffy sleeves. It was very princess-like. My dress was the simplest in a dark blue smooth fabric that hung heavily to my ankles and only had shape due to the petticoat skirts under. The straps were a simple triangle shape on the edge of my shoulders. It would have been a boring dress if not for the embroidery of a star map in a sparkly light blue thread. I was nervous they would dress me in red again but fortune actually favored me for once. 

Well, luck was on my side again this morning when Uncle Jasper asked if anyone wanted to accompany him to Diagon Alley while he ran errands for Christmas. I eagerly accepted and flew up the stairs and dressed in better clothes. I had intended on spending the day weeding and had my gardening clothes on but this was so much better. I can't decide if I actually wanted to run into someone I knew there or not. It was the day before Christmas Eve so the shops were going to be insane with last-minute shopping. If I did see anyone, would I even be able to say hello? I quickly changed into a simple velvet dress with a lace collar and red tights. My hair was tied up in its normal half-up style held by a long black strip of lace to match the black lace of the winter robes I pulled from my closet. Before leaving my room I tucked the drawing from Dean of Hagrid and the owls in the robe pocket. My Uncle would hate it if he saw I got a present for Hagrid. The sound of my shoes echoed in the house on a speedy trip down to the large fireplace in the entrance foyer where my Uncle stood patiently. Holding out the bowl of Floo powder, he frowned at as he handed me a small beaded bag filled with coins.

"You can pay this back once your vault is sorted. I will be running errands until around eleven. Can I trust that you will not embarrass me in the two hours I leave you alone?" He grumbled. I gave an obedient nod in agreement, taking a handful of Floo powder and stepping into the fireplace. The fire tingled against my skin as I swirled through the void landing in the familiar floor area of the shopping district. Stepping out of the fireplace, I wasn't surprised to see the large crowds of bustling witches and wizards. A sea of colorful wizarding robes was blending together in a sea of activity. I even saw a witch with a miniature Father Christmas charmed to fly around the brim of her hat. The street vendors were shouting out holiday deals and their voices were amplified by the closeness of the stone buildings. Tightening the buckle of the small beaded purse I set off on my list.

I had been nervous about Christmas presents as I wasn't receiving any funding from my Uncle throughout the year. So I couldn't even order off catalogs. I needed to get a present for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and my family. First I slipped into Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions and reveled in the smell of the new clothes for a moment. I quickly selected a small beret and matching gloves set in emerald for Daphne. For an extra fee, I was able to get her initials embroidered into it. Slipping back into the bustling street I was tempted to wander into Magical Menagerie and pick out a kitten or personal owl but the limited budget I had killed that idea. It took everything in me to focus on my friends and go into to the boring broom shop for Harry to get him a lavish broom kit for his new prized possession. Ron was easy enough as I simply got him a poster of the Chudley Cannons and a handful of No-Heat Fireworks from Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. While I was in the joke shop I grabbed some non-explodable, luminous balloons for Astoria as a hopeful bribe. Next, I went to an antique store in the higher-end section of the street and picked out a silver dragon pin with sapphire eyes for my Uncle. The toy store next door sold me a beautiful carousel music box with magical creatures that connected to the wizarding radio for Astoria.

I saved Hermione's shopping for last as I wanted to buy some books for myself at Flourish and Blotts. The smell of the books hit me instantly. I walked into the doorway setting off to find the best book for my bookworm of a best friend. There were books stacked to the ceiling and some as large as tombstones. The topics were as varied as the ones in the Hogwarts Library. Although less than the Hogwarts library, it was still an impressive collection of books.

As I was searching for a book with charm-filled spells that help students study, I came across the section on medieval history. My body froze when my finger gazed at a tomb on the life of Merlin in a shiny sapphire cover. My bags settled around my feet as I intensely searched the section in the empty corner on one of the upper floors of the shop. Many of the books were shiny and untouched while the more interesting ones looked aged and forgotten about by time. Something deep within me yearned for these books. Who is this man I allegedly descend from? Why did Nimue kill her lover? Did she truly drown herself in a cursed lake out of regret? A quiet gasp escaped my mouth. There was even one written by a Vaile. Strange how holding this dusty book is the closest thing I've ever had to interact with someone who shares my name. I wonder if my father read this one.

Knowing my time was coming to a close before I had to meet my uncle, I checked out with the charm book for Hermione, another one on the history of Godric Gryffindor, The Druidic Blood of Merlin by W.R. Welpin, and The Legacy of Merlin by Areon Vaile. If the woman checking me out knew who I was, she pretended not to notice and only scolded me a little when I ran out of the shop. I only had thirteen minutes left until I needed to meet my uncle at the Floo area. The line at the post office was long and didn't seem to budge at first. My anxiety was pulsing when I finally exited the shop successfully mailing my packages. My small body had to bob and weave through the congested streets.

Uncle Jasper walked up to the fireplace scanning the crowd when my out of breath body burst in front of him in a flurry of movements with my two books tucked under my arm and a few bags of presents for the Greengrasses. His eyes looked disapprovingly at my flustered state but said nothing motioning for me to follow him. And with a burst of flames, I was back in the suffocating embrace of Greengrass Estate. I could feel the claws reaching out from the shadows to sink into my skin with intrusive thoughts. Uncle Jasper was already halfway to his study by the time Poppi took away all our bags.

"Excuse me, Poppi," I softly got the attention of the elf, "If I get any packages from my school friends Christmas morning, will you make sure no one sees them? And will you put these books on my desk?"

"Yes, Mistress Stelli," Poppi nodded violently before popping off to work on lunch. Daphne was off at Pansy's for the day and Astoria was upstairs resting. The crinkly package of the magical balloons wrinkled in my nervous hands. The trip to her bedroom was nerve-wracking enough without creaky floorboards spooking my jumpy nerves. The large white door swung open with a heavy swing echoing in the room littered with toys. The walls were the same white paneling as the rest of the house with little pink roses painted in the center that matched the fabric of her bed, sofa, and vanity set. There was a corner covered in paint splatters around her beloved easel. Next to it was a cart of richly colored paints and expensive brushes. Leaning against the paint-splattered wall was a stack of half-finished canvases. She was an amazing artist already. It made sense. She could practice art from a sickbed.

The girl's tiny frame was eaten up by the fluff of her large bed and the shade of her honey-brown hair made her skin look even more grey and pale. Her Greengrass blood already made her skinny without the blood curse but she looked skeletal. Her green eyes narrowed at my sudden appearance but said nothing as I walked to sit on the edge of her bed.

"I didn't say you could sit on my bed!" She protested moments before my bottom settled into the duvet. I nodded springing up not wanting to rock the boat anymore. Astoria was more volatile than when my fox got a tooth infection. My movements made the wrapping of the balloons crinkle loudly drawing her attention like a cat to a baby bird. Curiosity lit up her eyes giving away to her childish love for presents, "What's that?"

"I got you some more non-explodable, luminous balloons today. Do you want them?" I asked holding them out knowing full well she wouldn't refuse them. She loved the little balls of light, especially when she was sick. It was entertainment for her to toss them up and down while bedridden.

"This doesn't change anything," She half-heartedly narrowed her eyes at me already ripping open the packaging. I frowned. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. I didn't think it would be.

"I know. I just wanted to apologize for making you sad. I didn't have any say in what happened during my sorting but it still hurt you and that's not okay," I apologized softly. Her ravenous unpacking froze as she reluctantly looked up at me.

"I-," She started angrily trailing off when she couldn't find the right words to say, "You aren't forgiven."

"I know," I nodded, biting my lip to cut off the tremble of my bottom lip, "You aren't that easy. I know you pretty well, Astoria. I did grow up with you after all."

She stopped her glaring and lowered her eyes to the package of magical balloons on her bed. The silence stretched while I waited for her response. My lips turned downward when I noticed how rapidly her eyelids were fluttering to keep away her tears pridefully. She looked so exhausted. I hope she will be able to attend the ball tomorrow. The nurse said she would be fine if she rested today.

"Can I blow those up for you?" I asked politely. I cringed hearing Ron making fun of my stuffy mannerisms in my head. Without looking up, she crossed her arms stubbornly and nodded firmly. I sat on the bed waiting for her to shoo me off but her high voice never came. My skin prickled with the feeling of her eyes as I blew the balloons up with my mouth. It was clear she had a lot on her mind.

"Everything changed so quickly. I had breakfast with you one morning and then the next Father told me you betrayed us. I just don't understand," Astoria mumbled holding one of the inflated balloons in her small hands.

"I don't either, Tori. I wish things weren't like this. I'm really really sorry," I admitted pushing back the tears. The little girl sat silently until I handed her the last balloon. I gathered the wrapping not knowing if she wanted me to stay or not.

"You should get some rest, Tori. Big day tomorrow," I smiled weakly. She nodded settling back into the pillows. My feet echoed in the silent room as I made my way out.

Suddenly her voice broke out from behind me, "You know I can hear you crying at night, right? I-I...You're still my cousin. You should try to rest too. I'll stop with the pranks. "

"I, um, I'll try my best. I've started having dreams again," I responded in surprise leaning against the half-open door before sending her a playful smirk, "Uncle Jasper would have your head if he knew you were sneaking out of bed at night still."

"No, he wouldn't," She smirked knowing full well the power she had over her father making me laugh. Shaking my head, I pulled the door behind me with a small clink. A sigh of relief flew out of my lungs once I was alone in the hallway. That went way better than expected. Thankfully, the allure of toys still worked on the younger child. 

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When I woke the morning of Christmas Eve, I felt exhausted from the nonstop tossing and turning the night before. My mind was plagued with the haunting call of some mysterious force deep within the dark forest surrounding the Malfoy Manor. I could imagine the foggy forest floor covered in twisted roots and mossy rocks screaming out for something. For me, it felt like. My skin was damp with a cold sweat, my sheets soaked through and the bags under my eyes were dark and ghoulish. During breakfast, all I could think about was what the dream was supposed to mean. It felt like it was getting more and more abrasive the closer I got to today. There would be no way I would be able to sneak off during the middle of the ball, especially during such dark hours of the night. Dangerous things lurk in those woods waiting for little girls to wander off. But even still, my mind rang with the haunting call of whatever was trying to lure me into the forest.

The day itself was chaotic. Uncle Jasper forgot to book a hairstylist for myself and his daughters which nearly drove Daphne up a wall in anger. The fit she threw was legendary when she learned she would have to do her own hair. Once her mind was fully onto damage control she tasked me with the job of doing her hair as I could do the neatest and most intricate braids out of the three of us. It wasn't unexpected, as I normally was the one who did their hair but with the painful distance between us now I was shocked she was still willing to get dressed with me. After a tense brunch, we all gathered in Daphne's room to begin preparations for the big night. Astoria was still looking a little run-down but her stubbornness wouldn't allow her to miss the night.

Daphne intensely followed a makeup tutorial from a clipping she found in Witch Weekly while I twisted Astoria's hair into a low, braided bun with brown strands falling to frame her face. She wore a thin pearl necklace in a choker style that matched the pearlescent tones of the realistic looking butterfly barrettes that matched the embroidery on her pink tulle dress.

It was strange seeing Daphne in makeup, and I could tell this one was of her first real attempts at makeup despite it being unnoticeable to most people. The dark red lipstick looked too mature and serious on her twelve-year-old face but I wasn't in a place to tell her my opinion. I don't think I've ever had enough courage to say something like that to her anyway. The hairstyle she picked was an intricate updo that required I curl each strand before twisting it up. It took hours to get it the perfect regale style with her front layers curling against her cheekbones. Astoria lost interest in watching me weave her sister's hair hours ago and left to try and convince her father to give her some early Christmas gifts. Daphne had an emerald gemstone tiara pulled from the Greengrass vault that matched her luxurious ball gown perfectly. The tiara even had matching emerald dangly earrings and a thin bracelet.

"It's brave of you to come tonight," Daphne drawled delicately while filling her manicured hands. When I didn't respond and stopped moving the simple fact she was even addressing me threw caught me off guard, she looked up locking eyes with me through the mirror of her vanity.

"I'm serious. If I was you I would have thought of an excuse to get out of it days ago. Everyone is going to be looking at you and not in a good way," She shrugged. I blinked in surprise. Was that almost a compliment?

"Uh," I hesitated attempting to find a nice response, "It's not like I have a choice, Daphne."

"I suppose that's true," She frowned, going back to her nails. A few minutes passed before she spoke again softly, "Stell?"

"Yeah?"

She squirmed a little in her seat before sighing, "I missed this. It's so different now."

"Me too. It doesn't have to be like this. We're family. Houses can't be more important than that right?" I bit my lip instantly recognizing I overstepped the moment. Daphne gave me a nasty glare.

"You know it's not just houses. Don't be an idiot. You're a blood traitor now. Prancing around Hogwarts with your new little friends. You're the one who ruined everything for yourself. We aren't family anymore. Not to me," She snarled in a rare glimpse at the fire burning hot behind her walls of ice. My eyes watered at the anger in her tone. The pointed prongs of the comb in my hand dug into the palm of my hand sharply to banish the tears. Her icy demeanor was back in the blink of an eye focusing back on her nails, "Just finish my hair. It's almost dark."

Luckily, her hair was almost done and the awkward silence was short lived. The moment I pinned the final blonde hair into place I was kicked out of her bedroom. In my own bedroom I was a flurry of panicked activity zooming around the room hoping to get dressed in the short amount of time before we needed to leave. There was some leftover curling potion from Daphne's hair but the way the curls looked on my features versus hers forced a cry of anger out of me. Tears pricked my eyes, blurring the awkward reflection in my vanity mirror. Why couldn't I be beautiful like Lavender, Pavarti or Daphne? The lack of sleep made my childish, chubby face look grey and dull with dark circles ruining the only pretty thing about me. My nose and cheeks were swollen hideously with unshed baby fat that most girls in my year no longer had. My puffy, large lips looked out of place and shadowed the rest of my features. Ms. Malfoy said I had my mother's lips but they suited her Greengrass genes rather than my Vaile features.

I forced myself to pin little star ornament pins in my hair. It was a little messy due to the tears of my insecure breakdown. Slipping on a thin silver bracelet with an ivory man in the moonstone, the sound of Astoria's voice echoed on the third floor alerting me that we would be leaving in fifteen minutes. The redness and puffiness of my eyes were soothed by a minty cream designed by a ditch witch. My ears complained about the weight of the silver crescent moon dangle earrings. Across my collarbones laid a thin silver chain with a single teardrop diamond hanging from it. I hurried to slip on the dark blue ballgown, matching flats and light blue velvet robe before any of the Greengrass family hustled me.

I reviewed the rules Uncle Jasper gave me during breakfast mentally as I made my way down to the bottom floor careful not to trip over my gown. If anyone brings up my house, focus on the fact I was a rare hat stall. Lie that the hat thought I would be a great match in all the houses. Lie about being friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Lie that I single-handedly defeated the troll on Halloween. Uncle Jasper suggested I use my druid blood as the reasoning due to the troll being a magical creature. Focus on my family legacy. Nimue. Merlin. Druid. Do not speak unless spoken to. Always be polite. Do not embarrass the family. Do not embarrass Uncle Jasper.

My head swirled with the pressure of the evening to the point that the excited babbling of the Greengrass sisters in the Foyer next to the floo fireplace was almost entirely muffled. Uncle Jasper walked into the room in traditional silvery blue dress robes and shiny black shoes that created an echo on the marble floor.

"Alright, remember we are leaving at 11:30. Meet me in the back of the ballroom at that time. I don't want to have to chase any of you down," Jasper adjusted the neck tie sternly. Daphne and Astoria sighed but I felt the familiar feeling of a cold sweat spread across my neck. That was almost four hours in the snake pit.

"Can we please push it back to midnight? Pansy's parents are letting her stay that late," Daphne begged her father with her little sister assisting by pouting up at her father with her perfected puppy dog look.

"Bold words from girls with Christmas presents on the line," Jasper smirked at the girls who instantly nodded in defeat. Would I even have gifts this year? Four hours is a long time. Maybe I could sneak off to the garden. It's decently close to the forest. It could stop those haunting dreams.

"Do you like my dress, Father?" Astoria beamed twirling dramatically, "It's so pretty. I feel like a princess."

Scooping up his youngest, who gave a giddy squeal, he spun her around in a circle making Daphne roll her eyes at the childish behavior. I couldn't help the feelings of jealousy as I watched Astoria giggle in her father's arms. I wonder if my dad would spin me around like that too. Uncle Jasper gently placed his daughter down and smiled at his two girls, "You both look beautiful. Let's get on with it."

He held out a hand to the fireplace and Daphne made sure she was the first in line to floo over to Malfoy Manor. Her figure went up in a rush of green flames with her younger sister close behind her. My Uncle's hand came down onto my shoulder preventing me from stepping into the fireplace and turned me to face him. The taller and larger man was incredibly intimidating as he stared down at me.

"Remember the rules I told you, Estelle? Tonight could help redeem you," He asked seriously and I nodded meekly. His hand froze on my shoulder. He looked conflicted on wanting to say something but gave a heavy sigh and let me go.

"Malfoy Manor," I shouted, throwing the dust to consume me in magical, painless flames. Within an instant, I stepped out into the familiar foyer of Malfoy Manor with it's threatening dark opulence. The air was filled with the excited chatter of the lucky witches and wizards invited to the event. The ballroom was already alive with the familiar melodies and dances found at such wizarding events. The crystal chandelier twinkled down on the pureblood society. Well, mostly pureblood. Pureblood and anyone who could be used by the Malfoy family for gain. Daphne had already found the familiar faces we had grown up within the corner of the room near the black marble bar. She and Pansy were giggling and complimenting each other's dresses. Pansy's gown was black with a Victorian flair. It made her look like a wealthy, gothic doll. Crabbe and Goyle were stuffing their faces with the food piled high on their plate. Blaise Zambini's face was twisted in disgust watching the animalistic behavior. He tried his best to look casual in the way he quickly planted himself at Daphne's side the moment she arrived. It made sense Daphne was the one Blaise secretly pinned for. She was almost as beautiful as he thought he was.

Theodor Nott was locked in a passionate discussion with Draco Malfoy, who looked rather bored of whatever he was saying. The blond brat must have felt my gaze on him because his silver eyes scanned the crowd before locking with my own. His mouth twisted into a smirk freezing the breath in my lungs. Pulling myself out of his gaze, I turned and ventured into the crowd in the opposite direction of Draco. The thickness of the crowd would blanket me. There had to be a place somewhere to stand out of the way without looking totally pathetic.

The adult's voices were already loud and boisterous from the open bar. Tonight was going to be a successful party for the Malfoys. The ballroom was decorated even more festively and lavishly than Hogwarts with twinkly stars suspended in the air, mistletoe hung from arches, and garland strung professionally throughout the room. The center of the room was dominated by a monstrous evergreen tree with branches pulled down slightly from the weight of the crystal and silver ornaments. The crowd was thick and I caught a few familiar faces of upperclassmen from various Hogwarts houses. It seemed like I was the only Gryffindor here.

"Ah, here she is now. Estelle, please come here," A cold voice jumped out at me yanking me away from my search for safety. My body turned to the sound of the familiar voice and quivered. My Uncle stood with Ms. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy, and the sneering face of Mr. Flint. He was the father of Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Seeker. Until Draco boots him out of the position next year, according to him. Forcing a face of politeness, I stepped closer to the adults. I could see the look in my Uncle's eyes and tried to ignore the pulsing fear. If I let him down or embarrassed him right now, I would be toast.

"I hear you were a hat stall. The first one in nearly thirty years, I reckon," Mr. Flint stared down at me. Despite his words depicting a good impression, his tone gave away the judgmental truth behind his words.

"Yes, Sir," I smiled politely, mentally thanking my Uncle for being so stern about etiquette lessons, "The Sorting Hat couldn't decide on which house to place me in."

"Interesting you weren't placed in Slytherin like your ancestor, Merlin," Pansy Parkinson's mother strolled up battling into the conversation snickering lightly, "Well, allegedly."

"The Hat mentioned that actually," I forced a friendly smile at the women pleased at the surprised look from my response, "It referred to me as a Child of Albion."

"I will hardly lower myself to take the word of that mildewed hat as reliable," Mrs. Parkinson hissed, pushing her nose upwards. Everyone's body language shifted slightly with my statement. I wasn't really sure what it was. I think it's the land King Arthur ruled or something.

"Was it not you who no more than ten minutes ago was boasting about the hat's placement of your youngest daughter, Helene? Allegedly or not, she still saved the entire school from a rampaging troll on her own," Uncle Jasper lied pompously making my skin crawl with slimy guilt, "It's probably because of her Druidic blood."

"Yes, Draco told me all about your....dashing experience with the beast. A real hero, aren't we?" Lucius drawled with a knowing smirk, "Why don't you tell us all about that night? I'd love to hear it from the source."

Before I had the chance to respond, the familiar figure of my potion's professor slunk up to the group of adults staring down at me. Thoughts of his recent activities and the theories about him sprung into my mind nearly making me gasp in surprise at seeing the man. Snape greeted each adult politely before the eyes returned back to me. He was there that night. He could easily point out any lie.

"You made it just in time to hear about Vaile's brave defeat of the troll. You were there, weren't you Severus?" Lucius sneered at me and Snape's constant frown deepened.

"Yes. It is not typical that a first year defeats a troll with little to no magical knowledge. Even with Ms. Vaile's natural skill in my class, the event was merely luck," Snape responded in his monotone drawl. I blinked in surprise at the admittance of my friend's help. He must not want everyone to know about his failure of a distraction that night. I couldn't wait to tell Harry and the others that Snape was willing to compliment me to change the subject away from his failure.

"Natural skill?" Uncle Jasper blinked, exposing his obvious surprise. The corners of his lips unconsciously rose slightly. My eyes memorized the sight of my uncle showing a glimpse of the same pride he held for me before Hogwarts.

Snape looked down at me with a sneer clearly reluctant to discuss my achievement any longer, "Yes. It seems your niece is one of the most.... competent in her year. Pity, she was not placed in my own house."

"Well, well," Mr. Flint frowned down at me before sneering at my Uncle, "Looks like your niece isn't a total waste after all."

Narcissa Malfoy caught my eye and quickly looked away. The small rejection of my only maternal figure stung. Luckily Uncle Jasper realized that this conversation should end in a high note and sent me to check on Astoria. Slipping back into the thick security of the crowd, I let myself catch my breath. Astoria was dancing on the edge of the dance floor with some other children her age happily. There was no need to go check on her and interrupt her fun. I found myself beside a black marble pillar hidden slightly by the thickness of the beam. The swirling and laughter of the dances were like something out of a fairytale. It was easy to get lost in the sway of the rhythm even off to the side. A light smile was even turning the corners of my lips up relaxing into the festivities. It wasn't until I caught sight of my old friends merrily dancing without hesitation that the spell over me was broken. It was the first year without me by their side and it was like I never even existed to them in the first place. No one would ever guess they were now one person short. My moment of bliss quickly fell down around me as I remembered all the whispers and stares that had followed behind me since arriving. Memories of past Christmas Ball's played back in my mind painfully. It used to be one of my favorite days of the year.

"Excuse me," A young male voice from my left broke me out of my painful trip down memory lane. Slightly dazed at being pulled back down to earth so suddenly, I looked to the source with a confused furrow in my eyebrow. Oh! I know him. He was a Ravenclaw. Third-year, I think. My cheeks flushed when I realized a handsome boy was paying attention to me. His dark curly hair, high cheekbones, and golden eyes were easier to remember then his name. Seeing my loss for a name, he gave a friendly smile.

"My name is Jareth Avery," He held out a friendly hand for me to shake which I did so bashfully. Why was I so meek around teenage boys? Avery was a pureblood name. Most of their family went into Slytherin.

"I'm Estelle Vaile," I smiled and he chuckled leaning against the pillar pushing his curly hair off his forehead.

"Trust me. I know. You are one of the hot topics tonight," He smiled friendly, not noticing my smile fade at the mention of my outcast status, "I think you might be the only Gryffindor here. I thought I had it bad when I was sorted into Ravenclaw."

"I just am trying to stay out of the way," I said admitting to why I was standing in a corner by myself.

"I can see that. Do you want to dance? I remember you last year spending the whole night on the dance floor," He offered a hand politely, and after a moment of hesitation, I took the hand giving into my guilty pleasure. I had only ever danced with the boys around my age. Jareth was handsome and towered over me making my skin flush pink, unable to stop myself from hyper-focusing on the way the skin of our hands touched. Pulling me into the proper stance, we began a well known magical waltz. There wasn't much to say but my heart pounded in my skull from the attention.

"So, how are you holding up?" He asked quietly. I looked up with a frown unsure of how to respond.

With a small nod, he frowned pityingly, "Yeah, that was a stupid question. If it helps, it gets better. Slightly. My parents were livid when I got into Ravenclaw and not Slytherin. They didn't talk to me until summer but eventually, they came to terms with it. It's old news now."

"Ravenclaw is a little better than Gryffindor," I countered trying not to sound too negative. His chest rumbled with a small laugh.

"You got me there," He admitted with a small smirk letting us fall back into the silence of our dance. It was good to have a distraction from my thoughts. My body moved through the familiar moves with ease and joy. I didn't think I was going to get the chance to dance tonight.

"Thanks for asking me to dance," I thanked quietly knowing the song was coming to a close.

"No problem. You're in a rough spot. It's the least I can do," He shrugged, pulling away as the last notes of the song echoed in the room. With a small smile, he faded back into the crowd leaving me standing to the side of the dance floor. My chest pumped from the excitement and activity of the dance. The breathless smile pulling at my cheeks was already starting to feel sore. Eventually, the adrenalin from the dance started to fade leaving me hyper-aware of the feeling of stares around me. Before I had the chance to retreat back to my spot off to the side, the brush of a skirt and the click of heels came up next to me. Narcissa Malfoy was perfectly put together in her traditional black dress robes and light eyes scanned the dance floor like a hawk as if she didn't just walk up beside me. I held my breath waiting for her to speak.

"Even a Gryffindor Vaile is still a great match for many of these families. You should consider yourself lucky for that protection," She wistfully sighed, "Otherwise, you would have been tossed to the trash by now."

"I-," I stammered bewildered by her causal statement, "What are you talking about?"

Her eyes moved to me now and I saw the snake-like gaze she must have learned at Hogwarts, "I had so much hope for you. So much like Cordelia. Shame."

Silence and tension hung in the air between us while she gave me a chance to respond but my mouth was too dry to utter a sound. She frowned and returned to looking at the dance floor, "Generations of marriages have been born at this ball. I promised your mother I would look out for her daughter. But it looks like you are doing just fine. I must say you can do a lot better than an Avery, even with your....disadvantage."

"You promised my mother to look after me?" I clung to the new words about my mother ignoring the frightening statements Narcissa was making. Uncle Jasper said something similar. She gave a dull hum and nodded.

"We were inseparable, your mother and I. Even after she was sorted into Ravenclaw, I was closer to her than my own sisters. The only thing left of Cordelia now is you," She frowned words thick with loss before turning to me with a stern glare, "A broken reflection tainted by the blood of her father. He was her downfall as he is yours. But still, his blood is the one thing letting you survive now. Any family would boast about breeding the last of Merlin's blood into their family tree. Pity you weren't a male heir to continue the legacy onward. You would get many offers from well-bred purebloods then."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let you down," I fumbled feeling the familiar rise of tears bubble in my throat. She merely raised an eyebrow and me and gave a small frown.

"Yes, well," She trailed off and began to walk away, "Do try to enjoy the rest of the night."

Watching the witch walk away, I turned and fled from the crowded ballroom. The familiar hallways and stairs of Malfoy Manor sped past me in a blur of tears and urgent movements. The rejection of my godmother was the last straw tonight. The air being sucked into my lungs in jolted gasps felt thin. Once I was far away enough from the party and felt safe no one would catch me up here, I slid down the dark wood wall into a pile of a lone quivering girl in pillowy layers of skirt. For a while, I tried my best to clean my tears off. Hopefully, the eye creme from earlier would help with the puffiness. Silence and stillness boomed around me comfortingly. The dark clouds in the sky danced across the full moon and twinkling stars through the window.

Slowly the tears came to a stop as I gazed out the window. The moonlight cast ominous shadows down onto the forest. My dream protested loudly in my head urging me to wander into the forest but fear planted me to my spot. It wasn't until the sounds of an argument that my body moved out of the prickly asleep state it fell into. Down the hallway, the slowly increasing tones of the tail end of an argument drifted toward my spot hidden behind a corner.

My curiosity got the better of me and I tiptoed down toward the edge of the wall to understand the razor-sharp whispering. The swish of my skirts wasn't noticed. I bent down and peeked around the edge of the wall and hoped to not get caught. It was Draco, with a quivering lip and red angry cheeks, looking up at his father who was clearly enraged by something and whispered his opinion at his only child. They were far from the party to not alert their guest and break the appearance of perfection.

"You should be top of your class, Draco. It's the only spot fit for a Malfoy. It's pathetic. You are below a mudblood. Why did I bother with your private tutoring? You're a disappointment to me," He hissed making Draco throw his hands down from his chest in anger; clearly hurt.

"The whole school thinks that Scarhead is the best thing they've ever seen just because he's a stupid orphan. Everything I deserve is just being handed to him. It's so unfair," Draco whined as his father's icy face broke, "He's a seeker! I'm far better than him. It's just because-."

A loud smack echoed through the empty halls as Lucious slapped his son with the back of his hand. The force of the blow left Draco looking to the opposite side of the hall I was hiding in. As the sound faded, Draco remained still. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing. Lucious's lips closed with a small tut and started to walk away, thankfully not the end I was hiding in, before looking over his shoulder coldly, "I expect you down shortly. Hopefully, you won't fail at basic etiquette to our departing guests. Important people are here, Draco, and it would be best if you didn't embarrass the Malfoy name any further."

The tall man rounded the corner, and I felt just as frozen as Draco looked listening to the fading footsteps. My hand flew to my mouth in shock when I noticed tiny teardrops falling from his cheeks to the carpet. The tiny beads were illuminated by the moonlight streaming in from the windows, which offered the only light besides two small lamps. Draco's shoulders started to shake and the tears fell more rapidly. I felt frozen to my spot unsure of what to do. With a whoosh of fabric, he roughly sat on the ground burying his face in his hands. We used to be close, especially as small children. As the memories of our childhood started to replay in my mind, a burst of courage emboldened everything within me. The courage gave me the strength to move out from my hiding spot and toward him. Draco didn't hear my movements until I stood slightly above him.

"Go away or I'll-," Draco snarled looking up from his hands red-eyed but went silent the moment he saw me. Recovering from his surprise, he sneered at me when I sat down next to the boy frantically cleaning his tears away, "I bet you loved that show. Can't wait to go tell your pathetic little buddies, I bet?"

Ignoring the comment, I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay? That looked like it hurt."

Draco pushed my hand off roughly and tried his best to blink away any forming tears, "I'm fine. My father expects the best from me. I wouldn't expect you to understand what it's like having a father that cares, Orphan. Why don't you go dance with Avery again?"

"Draco, he hit you," I softly frowned at the half-hearted insult, "I don't think you are pathetic."

"I need to beat Granger," Draco sniffed, "And once I become a seeker next year, my father will change his mind. You've seen me on a broom, Estelle. You know I'll be a seeker."

"Are you okay?" I asked again, hating the way he flinched when my fingers gently brushed away a tear on his red cheek. Hope flickered in my chest weakly when he had referred to me by my first name.

"I'm fine," He stood falling back into his pompous behavior and sneering down at me, "Why do you even care? Need something to make fun of for your letters to the misfits?"

"We used to be friends, Draco," I frowned protesting weakly, "I still care even if we are in different houses."

"Ha! I was never your friend. How stupid are you?" Draco snarled angrily. I stood feeling my frustrations bubble to a max crossing my arms at him angrily to distract from the hurt tears forming in my eyes. Raising his finger he pointed at the tears laughing coldly, "Surprised? I don't see how you think a Malfoy would ever be friends with a Vaile. Maybe Potter, Granger and Weasley don't mind the smell of your dirty blood but then again, they are even more pathetic than you! The only reason you are even here is because my parents insisted. Merlin's blood? What a joke. There is nothing special about you at all. Everyone knows you're failing Transfiguration."

"I don't even know why I tried. You're exactly what everyone thinks of you. There is a reason why no one likes you," I blinked away my tears ignoring his painful statement; beginning to feel like I was hit by a million knives, "The only reason you even have friends is because of your last name!"

Draco froze at my statement before smirking, "At least my family doesn't hate me. Bet you wish you could say that too."

"I hate you, Draco Malfoy!" I snarled pushing past him roughly storming back to the party knowing full well Uncle Jasper and my cousins would be preparing to leave.

I made sure my tears were long gone before I walked back into the chatter of the party. I spotted Jareth on the way to the Floo fireplace and smiled at the charming salute he sent me. There were two girls talking to the handsome Ravenclaw excitedly, for understandable reasons. The lavish grandfather clock echoed dully barely audible over the sound of the music as the hands reached the place for 11:30. Quickening my steps, I found myself next to Astoria while rushing to meet Uncle Jasper before he became cross. He wasn't exactly patient in social situations. The girl's hair had fallen from her bun in a few strands, no doubt due to wild dancing and children's games. Astoria looked up at me and the smile on her face faded slightly. Frowning, she furrowed her eyebrows, "Have you been crying again?"

"It's not important. We need to go before Uncle Jasper get's cross," I distracted her. The frail girl nodded determinedly and we both picked up our pace nearly sliding to a stop in front of Uncle Jasper and Daphne, who looked incredibly irritable. We had to leave.

"Are you ready, girls?" Uncle Jasper said, waving to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy formally. I'm sure they already said their goodbyes before this. I looked over to the couple and saw Draco walk up beside his mother who grabbed his cheek to inspect the faded pink mark. Before anyone noticed, she waved her wand making the pink disappear and in the next motion she was playing the perfect hostess alongside her husband and son. My lips curled in anger looking at the bratty child they raised.

Daphne's own icy tone pulled me away from the scene, "No. We only have to leave because Astoria is a baby."

"No, I'm not!" Astoria huffed pushing her sister lightly. Daphne went to grab her little sister's cheek in a sisterly fight but Uncle Jasper quickly stepped between them.

"If you do not behave yourselves, I will cancel Christmas," Jasper's lip tightened, nudging Daphne toward the floo gently. She stuck up her nose and ignored the family and vanished in green flames. Astoria followed her, with me shortly behind her. Uncle Jasper's dress shoes clicked against the spotless floor of the entrance of our home from behind me.

Normally, we would be allowed to open one present from under the tree and listen to Uncle Jasper read to us from a well-loved book of magical Christmas stories. Gingerbread cookies and warm milk would soothe us to sleep as we huddled next to the fire watching the flames form into the figures from the story due to the charm Jasper placed on it. There wouldn't be any presents for me now or in the morning. Neither sister would be comfortable snuggling up next to me for a story right now. With a weak swallow of the painful ball in my throat, I spoke up to my family members, "Would it be okay if I went to bed for the night?"

"But what about cookies and the present?" Astoria gasped at me like I had grown another head.

Daphne met my eyes before quickly looking away with crossed arms. Her lips turned down slightly too. Finally, I made eye contact with my Uncle who openly frowned at my question. His mouth opened before it shut again tightly. With firm lips pulled together, he nodded silently. In my hurry to get to my room before I fell into the third fit of sobs for the night, I exited the grand entrance foyer without wishing them a Merry Christmas Eve.

On my bed was thick, berry-colored pajamas with my initials embodied on the breast pocket and a small plate of steaming gingerbread cookies. Quickly throwing off my dress and sliding into the pjs, I sat numbly on the edge of my bed. Spotting the familiar, magical pictures of my parents on my side table, I reached out and rested the silver frame against my lap. The picture of us together felt like a cruel joke. Cordelia and Calin Vaile felt no less fictional than the stories of Father Christmas traveling the world on his sled right now.


	6. Chapter Five: Back to Hogwarts

Christmas Day was surprisingly enjoyable and the closest to how things were before since I left for school. Uncle Jasper claims he wanted just one day of peace and quiet before returning to work. Daphne was even pleasant to me. Astoria was simply happy to have an excuse to not hate me for the day, which was clear when she gave me the painting of my animals she made. Poppi truly outdid herself with the food this year and made sure the presents from my friends were unseen. Hermione gave me a box of sugar quills and a long, silk ribbon in scarlet knowing how bothered I was about not having a ribbon to wear in my hair that matched my house colors. Ron, or his mother I assume, sent me a slab of delicious fudge, that I shared with Astoria, who swore secrecy about the gifts. Hagrid sent me a hand carved wooden bear. I wasn't surprised that Harry didn't give me anything but I hope the broom kit made him smile. He told me he'd never gotten presents before.

I expected the same treatment this year but I couldn't hide my surprise when my Uncle presented me with the same amount of gifts as always. There was clothing, hair and dreamless sleep potions, and a few books. He always paid for someone to do the gift shopping for him, as he had no idea what little girls were into and didn't want to get anything wrong. A small smile pulled his lips upward when I gave him a questioning look at everything. For today, all that mattered was family. When the day ended, our strained relations went back to a tense coexistence but Christmas was a day to push the labels tearing us apart aside. I tried not to get too caught up in it all but failed.

The day after Christmas was even harder to manage than normal but luckily, I was no longer alone. Uncle Jasper gave each of us a new pet. Daphne, far from a cat person, received a snowy white owl that reminded me of Hedwig, which I didn't share with her. She named the owl Eira, which was welsh for snow. Astoria and I's new companions were brother and sister half-manx, half-kneazle kittens, which we fawned over endlessly. Astoria got the girl kitten that was totally white with a small patch of light, sherbet orange fur near her eye. Named after the cookie she was munching on, Astoria and Ginger became inseparable instantly.

I had more of an issue naming my male kitten. He was incredibly fluffy, with a nub for a tail that looked like a puff of long, white fur. The kitten's coat was the same pastel orange that his sister had around her eye but rather all over his body but his stomach. There were faintly darker orange stripes along his body but the color pallet was still beautiful. Even though he was a kitten, his demeanor was very placid yet sweet. All he wanted to do was cuddle and look at things from my lap or a soft pillow, rarely finding himself in the mood to play. His grandfatherly-like behavior eventually led me to give him the name Bernard.

The rest of the break passed quickly with Bernard keeping me company. Part of me thinks Uncle Jasper felt guilty about the way I had been cut from the family and tried to give me some sort of companion for my sorrows but maybe he just didn't want Christmas to be awkward. The Greengrass vault was plentiful enough to buy a hundred children expensive presents without hurting. Bernard was adorable and his laziness was extremely becoming of his absurdly fluffy coat at his tiny, kitten size. He kind of looked like a walking fluff ball beside me. I couldn't wait for him to meet Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Bernard and I spent most of our time looking for information about Nicholas Flamel in the library, without luck. Well, I searched while Bernie laid in the sun or next to the fire on a pillow watching me half-interested. The only time he really wanted to play was when he was with Ginger, who was just like her owner in her boundless energy. Astoria brought her sketch pad into the library a few times but mostly played with her new toys and trained Ginger to pull pranks on her sister, who was still bitter about leaving the party early and blamed Astoria.

When we arrived at the platform to return to school, I felt better knowing Astoria planned to write to me, and was excited to introduce Bernard to Hermione. The little pastel orange kitten slept through the bustle of the platform in the hood of my uniform robes. The awkwardness between Uncle Jasper and I was suffocating when Daphne quickly ran off to find her best friend and get a good spot. Uncle Jasper cleared his throat, making Bernard push his head through my hair to rest on my shoulder to glare at Uncle. Bernard and Uncle had grown to dislike each other immensely. Nearly as much as Daphne hated Bernard, who loved to sleep in her room on the window overlooking the garden with the large birdbath much to her displeasure. Astoria thought it was hilarious and soon Ginger did it to please her owner. Even just part-kneazle cats were too smart for their own good. I raised a hand to pet the ball of fluff to prevent the rising growling sound rumbling pathetically from his baby lungs. My Uncle tutted at the little beast before frowning at me.

"Please, do your best to stay out of trouble," Jasper ordered, "Try not to do anything more to sully your status. This....is hard enough already."

"I'll try. I'm sorry," I apologized looking at the way his black shoes reflected the lights and the flawless polish.

"Your mother loved getting into trouble too," He laughed weakly stepping back. I was frozen in my spot unsure of how to respond to the sudden act of affection; when the train gave it's warning whistle. Helping me lift my trunk onto the train, Uncle Jasper gave a stiff nod and disappeared without a word leaving me in a confused slump unsure of how to understand the back and forth behavior from him. It was just like how he ignored me for days after he was kind to me on Christmas.

"Estelle!" A high pitched voice cracked from behind me. Neville and Hermione smiled at me before my vision was consumed with frizzy, honey brown curls. It was only when the small meow chipped from the hood that she pulled back and let me out of her suffocating grip. Bernard had his front paws perched on my shoulders peering at the muggleborn girl in curiosity. 

"That's Bernard," I smiled at my best friend who had her hand out to the kitten to sniff.

"He's very handsome," Hermione complimented making my chest puff up in pride. The kitten had his eyes closed due to the pleasure of Hermione's fingers scratching behind his ears.

With a lurch, the train started to move rocking the three of us from our standing position slightly. Neville and I really hadn't talked that much but I didn't want to be rude and ignore him. Moving to hug Neville, I noticed neither of them had their luggage.

"The others are in a compartment down here," Neville smiled, making his baby fat ball up in his cheeks. Following Hermione and Neville, we came to the compartment with the other Gryffindor first years lounging. Bernard chirped in annoyance because of the movement in my hood while Dean, Seamus and I worked together to put my trunk in the storage overhead. Before I had the chance to introduce my new pride and joy, Hermione steered me out the compartment and into one of the nearby girl's bathrooms. Pulling me into another tight hug, her muffled voice reached my ears, "I went nearly insane with worry, Estelle. I almost wrote to you so many times. It wasn't too terrible, was it?"

My throat tightened and I squeezed the girl tighter, simply nodding my head. My mind filled with the cold distance and rejection of my family, and the hurtful words of everyone, especially my Uncle and Draco. My shoulders shook a little as I melted into a soft cry. Hermione hugged me until my crying stopped and pulled back to hand me a tissue from her pocket. Carefully whipping away my tears and blowing my nose, I frowned at Hermione.

"I'm so tired of crying. I'm just happy to be going back to Hogwarts. I don't really want to talk about it," I sighed pulling Bernard into my arms and out of my hood. He didn't protest and purred happily at the attention.

"Hopefully, you won't have to go back for Easter Break," Hermione nodded seriously, "Do you want to return to the compartment?"

"Yes, I've missed everyone so much," I breathed looking in the mirror intently, "You don't think it's obvious I just cried right?"

"No," She shook her head.

Everyone was impressed with Bernard, especially Pavarti who's intense fawning made Bernard slightly wary of the excitable girl. He slept curled in my lap for the entire train ride with his large ears twitching when the volume got a little too loud for his liking. Everyone talked about their Christmas and the presents they got. Politely, I asked questions about their families and celebrations. I didn't really say much besides getting Bernard. No one really seemed surprised I wasn't eager with information about my time away from school. I caught a few concerned looks out the corners of my eyes a few times, mostly from Hermione.

Seeing Hogwarts for the first time in weeks instantly lifted my spirits, and I nearly flew from the train excited to see the boys. Hermione was the same way and hoped they had more luck than I did on our mystery man. Our family library had all the information in the world that you don't want to know. Especially if you weren't pureblood. Some of the twisted ideas about cursing muggleborns were so dark and vile it should have never been put in writing. The snowy grounds of Hogwarts were beautiful and calming to my destroyed nerves. Hogwarts was a peaceful sanctuary far from judgmental looks and snide commentary.

Even the smell of Hogwarts, when I walked in for the first time, sent a happy tingle down my spin. It was even better because I hadn't seen a single first-year Slytherin since leaving the platform. Hermione happily told me about the strange muggle holiday customs, like covering your house with lights. She, in return, excitedly listened to me talk about the new books on Merlin.

"I don't understand why you haven't read them yet," She frowned, "I'd want to know right away."

"I don't know. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It's all anyone talks about. They think it's the only good about me anymore but what if I find out it's all a lie? I'm just...nervous," I explained to Hermione. She frowned slightly but nodded.

"I hardly think that's the only good thing about you," She rolled her eyes angrily as we made our way to the common room. Seamus was loudly talking about a snowball fight he had with his cousins when we all made our way through the porthole.

"Harry! Ron!" I cried happily spotting the two boys playing chess near a window sitting on two worn, scarlet armchairs. The warmth of the fire was amplified by the golden and red tones dominating the room. Merlin, I haven't seen so much red in weeks. Bernard stumbled to keep up at my feet. I threw my arms around Ron happily, who grunted waving me off.

"Made it just in time to see me destroy Harry," Ron smirked, moving a piece. Harry rolled his eyes and stood to greet Hermione and I happily.

"For the millionth time since you two left," Harry jested clearly bored with the game, much to Ron's dismay. Hermione and I quickly pulled two chairs to their small table. Bernard jumped onto my lap and busied himself with grooming.

"You got a cat?" Ron wrinkled his nose peering down at the tiny cat, "Where's the tail at?"

Calming a deep but immature growl of offense from Bernard with a stroke on the head, I glared at the redhead, "He's part-manx. He shouldn't have a tail. Plus, he's part kneazle so I'd be careful about offending him."

"Kneazle?" Hermione wondered; reaching over to pet the kitten under the chin.

"A lot of cats in the wizarding world are bred with this species of magical cat that's really smart," I explained knowing my voice was overwhelmed with my pride at the little guy. If only I could bring the other's with me.

"Just keep him away from Scabbers," Ron's lip lifted in resentment looking upward at the boy's dormitory.

"I doubt my cat will want anything to do with a dirty rat."

"He's not dirty!" Ron protested before frowning slightly, "Pretty ancient, though."

"What's his name?" Harry asked pulling Ron and I out of our debate over our beloved pets.

"Bernard," Hermione responded before I did, reaching over to pat Bernard's head, "Isn't that adorable?"

"Uh, sure," Ron rolled his eyes, "How was Christmas break for the two of you?"

Hermione went first and told us all about the things her parent's thought about her new school and world. She memorized a lot of the material leading up to final exams, which she admitted that she thinks she should start studying for even if they are nearly half a year away. Harry, Ron, and I protested but she didn't mind any of it. Her mind was made up. While she rattled on, Bernard purred happily on my lap covering my green skirt with light orange hair.

I went next and admitted that it was pretty rough. The retelling of my Uncle's office conversation was silent as everyone listened quietly. It wasn't until I told them about Astoria spitting on me that the ice started to break about my home life.

"That's ghastly," Ron winced in repulsion.

"Dudley's done worse," Harry shuttered, "My head's been in a load of toilets."

"Blimey," Ron shook his head bewildered, "You two need to get some normal cousins."

"Got any to spare?" I joked knowing full well any pureblood had about a million relatives before sighing feeling guilty for insulting my family, "Astoria is feeling a lot better. I think she might actually write to me. She has Bernard's sister. Besides, Daphne and Crabbe are worse to me."

"I keep forgetting you are related to that oaf," Hermione bristled, "At least there isn't a family resemblance."

"He looks like his father. My Aunt is pretty when her face isn't twisted up all snottily," I shrugged, "She was my mother's twin. Everyone says they were total opposites."

For some reason, I glazed over the Malfoy Ball quickly and barely gave any details besides the fact it was terrible. I didn't want to talk about the stuff Draco said to me. I finally understood the intense dislike my other friends held for the brat. He was really terrible when he wanted to be. I don't think much of the kind child Draco had still lived with all that arrogance festering inside him. Every day it seemed to die more and more. I hope I can go a while without running into him. I didn't tell them about the horrible nightmares that have started pushing past the effects of the dreamless sleep potion. It sounded too crazy. It wasn't until I admitted that I couldn't find anything at the Greengrass library about Flamel that the boys took over.

They launch into a story about Harry's new possession, an invisibility cloak, which nearly had me drooling about the idea of it. Harry told us about a mirror, The Mirror of Erised, that showed you your deepest desire in the reflection. Ron saw him winning the house cup as a head boy while Harry saw his parents alive and well. Dumbledore had it moved, much to my disappointment. Hermione kept switching between horror about breaking school rules on curfew and disappointment that no one had luck about Flamel.

—————————————————————————————-

The term soon started once more and classes were even more difficult than before now that I struggled to sleep every night. The safe feeling I felt in my dormitory tower offered no relief from the migraine-inducing nightmares. My professors were slowly starting to notice my droopy eyes. The only thing preventing me from dozing off in every class was Hermione sharply elbowing me in the side each time my head started to lull. We were hardly a week in and she was already over her new chore. In fact, she just stormed off to search the library for Flamel with a bewildered Ron dragged behind her stating that if I refused to go to the hospital wing for something to help with my insomnia then she was going to stop helping me in Transfiguration.

I let out a small groan. The homework McGonagall assigned earlier today totally drained all my precious energy. Draco was right. There was no way someone this hopeless could be Merlin's last heir. The only good grades I had were in potions, herbology, and charms but that's only three classes. Even my natural skill in the few courses I had was mostly just lucky guesses. 'Instinct' is just a fancy word for guessing.

"Almost didn't recognize you," A deep voice spoke sitting down in front of me, "I thought Gryffindor had a new dwarf ghoul member."

Jareth Avery sat across from me with a cheeky grin spreading ear to ear. His smile only faded slightly when I left his comment hanging in the air between us responding only with an appalled expression. Did he have no sense of manners? Finally breaking the silence, I mumbled, "Pardon you. I'm not a dwarf. I'm eleven."

"You look like you haven't slept in days. Look really terrible," He winced pulling my homework from across the table, leisurely overwhelming me with his lack concern of social boundaries, "Ah. I miss these days. School used to be so easy."

He was much more gentlemanly at the ball. Tugging the homework from his hand as quickly as possible without bringing attention to us, I pouted, "If it's so easy to explain why I'm the worst transfiguration student in my year. It's humiliating."

"I'm sure you aren't the worst," He scoffed before frowning from my lack of response. A sly smirk spread across his face bringing a tingle of nerves to my chest, "You know I'm actually one of the best in my year at Transfiguration. If you ask nicely, maybe I'll tutor you."

"Would you really, Jareth?" I perked up smiling across the table at the boy who merely raised an eyebrow, "I could hardly expect you to waste your time on me."

"Depends on what's in it for me," He waggled his finger at me.

"Are you sure you aren't a Slytherin?" I deadpanned.

"My mother would spontaneously combust from joy if you were right about that," Jareth smirked not caring that the Gryffindors around us were annoyed that a Ravenclaw was disrupting their homework time, "Actually, I heard through the grapevine, you are pretty good at Herbology. Take care of your own greenhouse back home and everything."

"I am fairly decent," I nodded.

"Well, the only subject I am not excelling in is that dirty farm work. I'll teach you transfiguration if you help bring up my grade," Jareth proposed holding out a hand for me to shake as if we were making a serious business deal. My hand reached across the table to solidify this deal. Guilt nagged me. He didn't have to do something like that for me. Without a doubt, I would drive him insane from my magic's refusal to perform Transfiguration.

"The only days I'm free are Tuesdays and Thursdays. We can meet in the library," He smiled looking over his shoulder at a group of third-year Ravenclaws staring at him from across the Great Hall. Turning back to me, he simply ordered, "Come meet my friends."

Blinking in surprise at the sudden order, I gathered up my things and followed him to the Ravenclaw table staring at the ground to avoid meeting any of the curious glances around us. It wasn't every day that a third-year Ravenclaw and a first-year Gryffindor sat at each other's tables. Especially Jareth Avery, the boy that all the girls fanned over. It was hard to decide if his best friend Beckett James was more popular with the girls. I guess it just came down to personal preference. They were both very attractive after all. I could see a few Hufflepuff girls staring at me in annoyance as I sat down near three Ravenclaw boys and one girl staring at me with extremely confused expressions.

"This is Estelle Vaile," Jareth smiled at his friends, "Family friend."

Before I had a chance to call out his lie that we had just met, not that I would risk annoying Jareth, the skinny, tall boy with shaggy straight hair in a reddish-brown shade that made his freckles stand out introduced himself, "I'm Andrew Nickles."

"Why did you bring a kid over here?" The infamous boy with dark skin and tightly curled hair cropped close to his scalp frowned at his best friend, annoying fiddling with the skull ring on his finger unconsciously. There were many thick, silver rings with various designs. Almost every finger was covered. The legendary Bennett James was annoyed with me. Lavender would flip if she knew. Or maybe it was Pavarti that had a crush on Bennett.

"I'm tutoring her in Transfiguration. Thought you all should meet her since she might be around a bit now," He shrugged, stealing a cookie from Andrew's plate, "Why do you carry around cookies like you're four, man?"

"I don't hear you complaining when you jack my shit!" Andrew snatched the cookie back from Jareth brushing off the insulting comment, "I can't win with you people. Either I'm annoying because I get hangry or I'm embarrassing for packing snacks. Pick a battle."

"Packing? You don't even take the time to pack," The short boy with thin eyes, pale skin, and dark hair hissed at the boy beside him finally looking away from his book, "You got melted chocolate all over my notes before break! Again!"

"Lance, you take everything so seriously," Andrew whined as the dark-haired boy just went back to his book. I think his full name was Lance Seo. He has a sister in Gryffindor the year above me, I think. Was her name Lauren or Lucy? The name danced just out of memory. She was always chatting away happily in the common room.

"Are you tutoring her so Flitwick will make you a prefect one day?" The girl finally spoke up with a detached expression on her face glancing at me in a hard way, "Liza Kapoor."

I tried not to be intimidated by the tanned girl in front of me who seemed to be sizing me up. Her dark hair was shaved on the side with the other side braided back in a thick French braid. There were bleached streaks of white weaved in through the braid. Dark makeup was applied around her eyes that matched the dark piercings covering every available spot in her ear and the thin choker around her neck. I'm sure my attempt at a friendly smile shamed my placement into the brave house. The sound of Uncle Jasper calling me meek echoed in my brain intrusively.

"Doesn't hurt," Jareth admitted. I wanted to comment on how he failed to mention the way he was using me but my fear of causing an issue while the friendship hadn't grown any roots silenced my offense. The unwelcome from the older students was unsettling. I don't want to bother them but Jareth dragged me over here. Twitchy fingers pulled my thick uniform robe around me tighter where the two sides joined with a button. The clammy sweat that gathered at the fingertips seeped into the fabric. Jareth snagged an apple from the middle of the table giving up on the cookie, brought his legs up to lay across the open space on the bench beside him, and continued crunching into the juicy apple with his bone-white teeth, "Besides, she has to go to those stupid pureblood events too. Maybe I won't try to gauge out my eye next time with one of the ridiculous ice sculptures."

"Were you at that one time some kid got his tongue stuck to the sculpture?" I blurted excitedly, "They couldn't get his tongue off because the ice was charmed to not melt."

"His father had to levitate the whole sculpture home with his son attached by his tongue like a leash," Jareth pointed at me remembering the event clearly as we erupted into a fit of giggles, "I don't even remember what event that was. There is too many."

"Ugh," Beckett groaned in disgust, "Kill the rich."

My laughter died in my throat when I realized who I was talking to outside of his status of a Hogwarts Heartthrob. The boy in front of me was the bastard son of Amadeus Selwyn, and I could see the resemblance Narcissa Malfoy talked about. She said if the boy didn't look so much like his father she would think his half-blooded mother was just a whore trying to get a taste of luxury. I couldn't imagine how Beckett felt knowing the father that refused him had just welcomed his second child into the world. Beckett must have read my thoughts from the expression on my face and nearly spat at me, "Another pureblood too good to be seen with the bastard son? Another mindless lamb for the slaughter. You know what-."

"Beck," Jareth deadpanned, seriously cutting him off, "Do you not see what robes she has on? She's just as much of a misfit as you and I. Calm down. You're freaking her out."

A tense silence fell between the group not sure how this would play out. I felt the need to run away and hide from the upperclassmen. I didn't mean to offend him. My head was pulsing with angry criticism about the careless lapse in my manners. Suddenly like a balloon popping, Beckett leaned across the table and pinched my cheeks roughly dryly stating, "Welcome to the pureblood reject club. We gather every day after class to plan the destruction of the elite."

"Ouch," I rubbed my cheek lightly that throbbed slightly from his rough pinch. Shamefully, I bowed my head, "I apologize for offending you."

He still looked annoyed but clearly was forcing it for the sake of his best friend. They never went anywhere without each other I hear.

My apology wasn't commented on lingering in the air for a tense, awkward lull.

With the awkward interaction behind us, I finished my homework with the older Ravenclaw's help. Each filled question had 'Thank-You's flooding out my mouth. Even though I realized how annoying it was, I couldn't help myself. Mostly Lance and Jareth helped me with Beckett, Liza, and Andrew discussing quidditch occasionally offering advice. When I finished the assignment surprise filled my body as I got a slight understanding of the lesson for the first time. Normally Hermione babbled on for an hour before I understood what she was trying to explain. She knew too much for her own good. And she's mad at me. Who needs sleep anyway? I got the assignment done, didn't I?

That night Hermione was clearly surprised and annoyed that I managed to complete the homework without her guidance. It took thirty minutes of apologies before Ron shut down the fight telling me I needed to sleep and that Hermione needed to chill out. The great wizard chess phase Ron was in was starting to drain everyone in the group. The bickering of Hermione and I distracted him from his moves and made him snappy. I wasn't trying to argue with Hermione and, frankly, felt incredibly uncomfortable doing it. The muggleborn girl just simply didn't understand the situation I brought on myself. Uncle Jasper would be happy as long as he received no news about me. Good or bad. It didn't matter. No news was good news with someone who needed to fade into the background like me.

This last stretch of winter had everyone feeling a bit of cabin fever. Each day forced to spend inside was maddening. The allure of winter had faded as the fun of winter activities lost their charm and everyone began to anticipate the emergence of spring. Fresh air and lighter robes were on the brink and I couldn't wait to see what species of spring plantlife was waiting to emerge. Maybe when I'm older and aren't so helpless, I'll sneak into the Forbidden Forest to see the plethora of wildlife.

It was our nightly routine now to wait for the Boy Who Lived to return from practice to work on our homework together in the warm common room away from the last snowstorms of winter as January stretched on. The only person who was worse than I was at chess was Hermione, who hated this new, rare weakness. Harry, Ron and I quietly agreed it might be doing her some good all the way up there on her high horse. Things were tense between Hermione and I, because of my darkening bags under my eyes growing worse with each restless sleep plagued with visions of the eerie forest surrounding the Malfoy Manor. The dreamless sleep potions no longer worked even a little but lessened the severity of the headache in the mornings, or more realistically the earliest hours of the day before the sun even rose.

Bernard and I had started spending those hours before dawn curled up near the common room fireplace with a book. Once it was a poorly executed attempt at knitting. Bernard made my lack of skills even worse as yarn seemed to be the only thing that actually was able to entice him to play. Books were quiet enough not to wake anyone, even if it was starting to get a little dull. The collection of books I brought or checked from the library were in a causal rotation but my fingers avoided the aged spins of the books on Merlin without fail. I mostly stuck to the familiar herbology, magizoology, and charms books. Those were my favorite. Since no one was watching, I even read a romance fiction book. Ron would have made fun of me just because of the cheesy wizard posing on the cover. His commentary would have probably been more entertaining than the book itself. The Merlin books made me nervous. It just felt like another thing to reject me, even if my curiosity took control of my mind to wonder about the possibilities in my wildest daydreams.

One night as I was half-heartedly polishing my oak wand, the scuffling of feet brought my eyes to the boy's stairs. The sound was impossible to miss in the dead silence of the night. My eyebrows pulled together as I realized it was Harry, with a head wild with bedhead and pale skin, that was entering the common room.

"Elle?" Harry questioned adjusting his glasses on his skinny face. Even the nicknames the two groups of people in my life had were different. Growing up, it was always Stell. Bernard's head popped up from the throw pillow he was sleeping on with a chirp returning to his nap when he realized who it was.

"Can't sleep?" I asked, putting my wand down on the carpet beside me. Harry sat down across from my spot on the ground on one of the big scarlet sofas with a nod. Frowning, I pressed the issue cautiously, "We can talk about it if you want."

"Ever since I saw my parents in that mirror," Harry sighed looking at the fire burning beside us, "I just- I keep having dreams of Voldemort killing my parents. Over and over again."

"Merlin's beard," I swore breathlessly pulling a grumpy Bernard into my lap, glad Uncle Jasper hadn't figured out how to be omnipotent yet, "I can't imagine. I just-...Voldemort already took so much from you. From us. It's just not fair."

"El," Harry frowned, "When I looked in the mirror at my parents, I didn't care about Flamel anymore. I didn't care if Snape stole whatever is behind the trap door. All I cared about was seeing them."

I sat quietly for a moment looking at Bernard batting at my fingers in my lap before admitting to my fellow orphan, "I'm not sure I would either. I think about them a lot. Especially after everything with the hat. Maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal if they were still alive. A parent's love is supposed to be unconditional, right?"

"Well, if your parents cared, I'm sure my parents would take you in. Hagrid says they were good people. They looked nice," Harry smiled as we lost ourselves in dreams about what our lives could have been for hours. We talked about what our houses would look like and the letters they would write to us. Maybe we would even have siblings. Having someone who understood the things I felt on that level kept the shame of dreaming about a different life rather than feeling thankful for The Greengrass' generosity. It wasn't until the first rays of daylight spread across the room settling into the gold accents warmly that Harry changed the subject looking happier than before.

"Why were you awake? Hermione says you haven't been in your bed when she wakes up," Harry asked and I frowned. I hadn't told anyone about these dreams yet. It sounded too insane and bizarre to explain. But Harry was understanding.

"I've been having these nightmares. I think I had them as a kid too. I used to sleepwalk but my Uncle had these potions made for me that stop dreams. He stopped ordering more when I got into Gryffindor. I mean, we weren't even talking, remember? But over the break, I started dreaming of this forest, and something in it's calling out to me. I feel like I'm under a spell and I wake up all sweaty with my head throbbing. I got more of the potion for Christmas but it doesn't even work anymore. Even thinking about it gives me a headache."

Harry was silent for a while not understanding the intensity of the dream or the peculiar nature of dreams like that in the wizarding world but he finally responded, "Do you know what forest it is?"

"Yes," I admitted reluctantly, "It's on the Malfoy property."

Immediately, Harry's body tensed, and stated, "Ron says that family is bad news. What if they cursed you or something?"

"I'm positive they don't have anything to do with it," I protested knowing students would start filling the common room soon.

"You don't know that!" Harry frowned. The scarred boy was looking at me like I grew another head.

"But I do! I don't know how to explain it! Just trust me, Harry," I argued. Harry looked ready to argue some more but a fourth-year girl started the steady flow of students on the way to their morning classes. Knowing we both needed to change, we dropped the subject and started our day.

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Sleep was more and more elusive as the month flew by. Each night it felt like I was getting less and less sleep and the headache I woke with became more and more severe each night. A handful of times I had to go to the hospital wing to get some relief. Hermione wasn't the only one annoyed with me now. Harry, Ron, and Jareth were all annoyed at my refusal to get help from an adult. Harry had quickly told Hermione and Ron about his concerns about me being cursed which sent Ron into a tizzy. He even asked his older brother if there were curses that could give someone nightmares. Percy said he wasn't sure as he would never study the dark arts but it didn't sound unrealistic. Ron even started to send glares to Draco during Potions, who clueless about the situation, thrived off the anger of the redhead using it as an opportunity to mock him.

Jareth, on the other hand, was less concerned for my health and more fixated on the way it was irritatingly insulting that I had fallen asleep during our tutoring lessons multiple times. The third time I fell asleep he used Lance Seo's muggle pen to draw a mustache on my face. The short boy had often joined us in the library speeding through his own homework like it was nothing to read philosophy books or whatever his interest was that week. At first, Liza Kapoor joined us but quickly realized Jareth and I's banter was too distracting if she wanted to maintain her perfect grades. She wanted to be a curse breaker one day.

"If you don't start sleeping enough for our lessons, I'm going to personally stupify you unconscious every night," Jareth threatened halfheartedly twirling a quill in his hand. Most of his attention was focused on the sheet in front of him. Slightly narrowed eyes scanned the page for errors, and frequently used the quill to make corrections.

"You say you are tutoring her so Flitwick will make you a perfect. But you just threatened the first year. You better hope no one heard you threaten this little project of yours. I don't want to get dragged into trouble," Lance didn't look up from his dusty tomb as he stated in a monotone drawl. I wasn't sure how Jareth's friends felt about me honestly. But then again I wasn't even sure if Jareth was my friend or if I was just an opportunity to him. I rarely saw Beckett but he was always annoyed that some kid was hanging around them. Once I saw him in the hall a few days after we met and gave him a friendly smile but he acted like he didn't see it. Guess he thinks he's too cool for me.

Lance and Liza didn't really speak to me that much. Lance's nose was always buried too deep in some book and Liza didn't seem to talk much at all. Her dark eyes were expressive enough to show her angry disinterest in most things without needing words. Andrew was always nice but I think he was nice to everyone. Everyone seemed to love him, and he managed to have friends in every house. I saw him joking around with Lee, Fred and George, who I still had a humiliating crush on, chatting with Slytherins and eating meals at the Hufflepuff table with the golden boy of Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory, and his little crew. I couldn't help but be jealous of the universal love the boy earned so effortlessly.

"Just get some sleep. You look terrible," Jareth pointed at me before handing back a practice quiz covered in markings with an eye roll, "You failed again, by the way. You keep forgetting the formula."

Jareth's threat worked but not in the way he expected. That night I actually got a few extra hours of sleep than normal but when I woke, I was barefoot in my pajama's laying in the half-melted snowy grass of one of the countless courtyards of the castle. Icy mud smooshed into the fabric of my long nightgown. The first rays of sun paired with the painful feeling of the snow against my thin pajamas to jolt me out of the forest nightmare trance. Getting back to the dormitories in my wet pajamas was terrifying because I thought every sound I heard in the old, creaky castle was an adult ready to punish me into another life. I barely had time to change into my uniform and hide the wet pajamas before Hermione woke up for the day. The next day I woke in the snow again, and my body was punished with a gnarly cold. A Pepper-Up potion quickly cured me but left me with steam billowing from my ears for the rest of the day.

This terrifying pattern kept on every night for the rest of the week. I even tried tying myself to the bedpost to keep me in the dormitory but that just left me with a wicked bruise around my wrist. Admitting defeat and not wanting to get a third pepper up potion in a week, I started to go to bed fully dressed. It was a lucky fluke I hadn't been caught but my fear prevented me from talking about it. It wasn't normal behavior. I felt like a total freak but at least no one knew.

No one knew until Sunday night came around and I was roughly shaken from my sleep by two warm hands on my shoulders. With bleary eyes, I realized I had finally been caught. My heart stopped at the fear of getting points are taken away when my house was doing so well for the first time in years. The two figures in my vision slowly focused and relief filled my body. Beckett James stood in front of me with his hands on my shoulders roughly waking me. His many, thick rings dug into my shoulders. Behind him, Andrew Nickles stared at me wide-eyed holding a pie in his hands. Both boys were staring at me with a mixture of confusion and alarm. Realizing we were in a broom closet, I gazed around confused.

"Where are-?" I started to ask but Beckett threw his palm over my mouth quickly. Andrew gave a small 'shh' glancing frantically at the door. Beckett gave me a glare not caring about how my eyes widened in fear. A few minutes passed with us frozen in silence in the closet. After a little while, Andrew cracked the door leaning his eye close to scan the hallway behind the door.

"Filch," Beckett hissed almost soundlessly, "He almost saw you. You're lucky we saved your ass before that stupid ass cat noticed."

"He's gone," Andrew breathed and threw himself against the stone wall of the closet sliding down winded, "I feel like my heart's going to explode."

"You!" Beckett grumbled pushing me against the door slightly before joining his friend against the opposite wall unnerved, "What the hell was that? You creepy little fucking first year!"

"Dude," Andrew blinked looking at me, "You looked like you were in a trance. Possessed or something. We had to grab you before you walked right up to Filch."

"I've...," I trailed off biting my lip, "I guess I was sleepwalking again."

"Aren't there potions for that?" Beckett frowned, "It's not like you can't afford it, Vaile."

"They stopped working," I muttered avoiding their eye contact.

"That's dangerous, you know," Andrew sighed still holding the pie, "You could walk right off a ledge. The stairs just, like, move here."

"I'm telling Jareth," Beckett said, making up his mind, "He'd want to know about this."

"Please don't! It's so embarrassing," I pleaded but the boys just shook their head and made their way out of the closet.

"You can make it back on your own, right?" Andrew asked, eyeing the pie in his hands and I gave a weak nod too scared my protest would bring Filch back in our direction. We weren't too far from the Gryffindor Common Room anyway. I decided that I shouldn't go back to sleep after that.

———————————————————————————————

I didn't even make it to breakfast that morning before Jareth and Andrew came up from behind me and each grabbed one of my arms basically carrying me in a different direction from the Great Hall. I let out a small scream but no one around us was concerned as they had seen me with the boys before. Ron, Neville and Pavarit, who I had been walking with and was discussing Potion's homework, merely watched as they pulled me away with helpless expressions. Pavarit giggled a bit though.

"You're. an. idiot." Jareth stated as we turned a corner. I started to wiggle in their hold before they dropped me down. They were only two years older than me, after all. Couldn't be more than fourteen and I was about to be twelve they shouldn't be able to boss me around. I huffed and straightened out my slightly wrinkled robes glaring at the privileged boy insulting me.

"I am not!" I protested resulting in an over the top laugh from Jareth.

"Only an idiot would keep uncontrollable sleepwalking a secret in a place like Hogwarts," He scoffed before grabbing my arm again to pull me in the direction of the Transfiguration rooms and the office of my head of the house.

"I appreciate your concern but it's not that big of a problem," I protested as Andrew grabbed onto my other arm lightly making sure I couldn't bolt away. I frowned at him but he only shrugged in response.

"One wrong step and you become a puddle," Andrew winced, "If I didn't want a midnight snack last night, you might be stuck in detention until you're in your eighties. Or worse man."

"That's a little dramatic," I rolled my eyes. I knew it wasn't dramatic at all but Uncle Jasper couldn't know about this. No news is good news.

"Trust us," Jareth hissed looking back down at me, "Filch is not someone you want to piss off."

"We learned the hard way," Andrew laughed making eye contact with his friend who joined in over some inside joke. As we came to the hallway with the door to McGonagall's office, my body thrashed in their grip with more urgency.

"Would you leave it alone if I said my birthday was in a few days?" I tried but had no luck. The boys simply ignored me and knocked on the large wooden door urgently until a muffled voice beckoned us in. Grunting weakly as my body tried to pull out, the boys burst into the room with an abundance of drive. McGonagall looked up from the papers she was grading and dropped her mouth slightly at the sight in front of her. Wow, we actually managed to surprise McGonagall. Wow. Quickly coming to the front of the long room to meet us, she pulled off her glasses and pursed her lips.

"I am sure there is an explanation for this...peculiar visit," She frowned at the boys, which Andrew waved cheerfully to in response, "There always is with your little crew."

Without letting go of my arm, Jareth nodded turning on his charm, "Good morning, Professor. Sorry for the intrusion. Delicious muffins out in the Hall this morning. Wildberry. You really should treat yourself to one."

"Please get to the point, Mr. Avery," She ignored his polite small talk and frowned at the way they were holding me down, "And let go of Ms. Vaile's arms."

"Thank you, Professor. I'm sorry for the intrusion. It wasn't my idea," I pouted, rubbing my arms where they gripped me tightly. Catching Andrew's eye, I glared but he just giggled and fixed my jostled uniform robe hood casually. Nowhere to run now. I could feel the cold sweats of panic gathering on my forehead now.

"Want to tell her Estelle or should I? I am a pretty good storyteller," Jareth asked looking at me. Saying nothing to the prompt, I frowned stubbornly and stared at my black uniform shoes.

"We are just trying to help," Andrew said to me in defense but I ignored him pointedly. They didn't even ask if I would be okay with this and now they are getting an adult involved. She could write to my Uncle! No news is good news! This isn't good! He said to stay out of trouble and not do anything that would bother him. It's barely been a month.

"Estelle hasn't been sleeping. She even told me that she had started sleepwalking around the grounds," Jareth said, blatantly avoiding outing his friends for sneaking around past curfew. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on me but I refused to look up from my shoes. No etiquette class could prepare me to act properly in a situation like this on such little sleep. It was humiliating. This was my problem and now Uncle Jasper was going to have my head. People are going to find out about how weird I am.

"Is this true, Ms. Vaile?" My Head of House frowned at me softly. I gave a weak nod feeling my anger melt. I slumped pathetically in front of the people looking at me in this room.

"I see," McGonagall responded, "Thank you for coming to me with this information. I presume you are the reason for her recent improvement in my class, Mr. Avery?"

"Yes, Professor. I have been tutoring her a few times a week. It's extremely kind-hearted of me but I simply couldn't look the other way when a family friend was falling behind on her education," The pureblood boy boasted and I looked up to see him smiling loving the praise. McGonagall nodded before moving back toward her desk.

"Ten points to Ravenclaw for your kindness," McGonagall rewarded the big-headed boy before gesturing toward the door, "Thank you for bringing this problem to me, Mr. Avery and Mr. Nickles. If you wouldn't mind, I think Ms. Vaile and I have some things to discuss privately."

The boy's left quickly leaving me alone with my head of house. My weight shifted on my feet slightly unsure of what to do. I had no intention of going to her about this. My Uncle was going to kill me. Silently, the older woman gestured to one of the seats in front of her desk and I meekly sat down across from the woman.

"I can only presume your friends tell the truth about your sleeping ailments from the way you struggle to stay awake in my class and the decline in your grades. Why did you not come to me with this issue sooner?" She frowned at me sternly, "Hogwarts is incredibly dangerous to suffer from such an ailment. This may have ended fatally had your friends not brought you to me."

"I used to take sleeping potions every night to stop it but they stopped working ever since Christmas break," I said meekly fumbling with my fingers in my lap, "I just didn't want to cause any trouble. No one else does this."

"I hardly think the opinions of others is something worth endangering yourself over!" McGonagall scolded shrinking me with each word, "A potion? Do you have any idea why it may have stopped working?"

"Well," I blanked unsure of how to broach the topic of my relentless dreams, "I've been having this dream every night. I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep. The sleepwalking only started this week."

"A dream?" She pressed on and spoke again when I didn't explain further, "This is a very serious matter, Ms. Vaile. What happens in the dream?"

"It's just a forest! Nothing ever happens in it. There is something calling out to me and then it ends," I protested, "It's not a big deal or anything."

McGonagall said nothing after I tried to lessen the concern about my sleeping habits unsuccessfully. I was exhausted. Anyone could see it but sleep wasn't even a possibility anymore. I just want to save my energy for class and figuring out who Nicolas Flamel was. Judging from the expression on Mcgonagall's face, I don't think that's going to be happening anytime soon.


	7. Chapter Six: Father's Amulet

**(A/N: Before this chapter starts, I would like to clarify some things about the magic in this chapter. I spent many hours researching Merlin's supposed powers both in the universe of Harry Potter and otherwise. He's too powerful to give all the abilities to a character I really want to struggle with both her confidence and magical ability for a while. Most children do at this age, right? It wouldn't be realistic for a student to be more powerful than Dumbledore or another powerful character. My version of Merlin's abilities will be covered a lot in the summer between the second and third year and throughout the rest of the series. But to be clear, she will NEVER be a seer. She will NEVER be an animagus. She will NEVER be a master of wandless magic, at least during the timeline of this fanfiction. As for her druid roots, the druid culture didn't believe in writing anything down as everything was taught orally. So I'm going to have to use a lot of lore and fantasy information about them but I found a good research reference from 1892 on a Scottish library's database. Druids typically studied up to 20 years learning their magic and culture. Seeing as no one is there to teach Estelle and at her age, I don't expect her to be particularly powerful as such a young girl anyway. But as for her natural ability, it will mostly come out with magical creatures, especially ones of intelligence or power like merfolk, giants, dragons, phoenixes. Think along the lines of Newt and Hagrid, or the women who founded the American wizarding school but a little more mystical for the entertainment of the fanfiction. That being said, she still ranks as one of the weaker students in her year and needs tutoring to keep up. Her saving grace for grades is potions, charms and herbology. One day care of magical creatures as well. It's why she wants to me a magizoologist. These special abilities by no means make her the most powerful in the trio or anything. Honestly, she's probably the weakest one depending on the kind of magic. Anyway, hope that wasn't too spoiler-y or anything. I just didn't want anyone thinking I created a God-Level Mary Sue but at the same time, I really want to put a spin on the familiar series in some way. Plus I really love the show Merlin, which will be pulled from.)**

If my entire being wasn't overflowing with rage and humiliation already I might have been excited to see the office of our curious headmaster hidden behind that ugly gargoyle statue. The looks I received from the other students as I trailed behind Professor McGonagall had me start making a list of all the things I was going to scream at Jareth. Hermione too! She's the one who couldn't help but overshare to Madam Pomfrey when she accompanied me to get one of the pepper up potions this week. She's just lucky I cut her off before she said anything important. Everyone was staring at me and whispering between their friends about why the Slytherin reject looked like a half-dead ghoul and was being escorted to the Head Master's office.

Hermione doesn't know better, but Jareth knows too well what I meant when I said I couldn't cause any trouble for my Uncle anymore. He just wanted points for pretending to care so he can try to please his own snobbish family with forced accomplishments. Did he really have to throw me under the bus to do it?

My jaw started to hurt from the angry grinding as the rising staircase halted in front of a large oak door. The emotions inside me were too intense to decide if I was humiliated, terrified, or furious. Honestly, it was making my sleep-deprived head go fuzzy a little. Or maybe it was the motion of the rising stairs.

"Wait here for one moment, Ms. Vaile," McGonagall pursed her lips to me as she gracefully walked through the door. The door shut with a soft click and I was alone in the small space at the top of the stairs. Moments passed quickly from the pounding in my ears and slowly from the energy of standing up. A dizzy spell just passed when the Professor returned looking down at me seriously. I squirmed uncomfortably.

"The Headmaster will see you now. I will let your professors know your absence will be excused." She nodded gently ushering me into the room as she walked out. Trading places with the older witch so suddenly nearly gave me whiplash. The door shut behind me gently leaving me in the room with the most famous and powerful wizard of the era. The white-bearded man must have been on the elevated platform above his desk judging by the sounds of light rustling wafting down the curved, gold stairs. It was fortunate none of the portraits on the wall were speaking, as they were too busy looking at me in curiosity because the softness of Dumbledore's voice wouldn't have made it over another noise, "No need to be timid. I would like to talk with you about something if you do not mind, Estelle."

A soft coo followed the statement and my mouth instantly let out a loud gasp when I saw the creature gazing at me. Everything else faded away as I held my hand out to the legendary creature in an offering of peace. The ruby feathers on its head fluffed out slightly in response to the light scratch from my fingers on the phoenix's head. I can't believe my father had one of these creatures as his companion. Would he like me as much as this one? How did he even get it? I was so focused on the energy radiating off the firebird I didn't notice Dumbledore practically float down the stairs with a thin, dusty box in his hand until he was standing next to the phoenix stand beside me. Chuckling lightly, Dumbledore broke my trance of fascination, "It appears the apple does not fall far from the tree. Your father was quite taken with Fawkes when he met him as well. Wasn't long before he had his own Phoenix companion. Fawkes and Ambrosius got on quite well if I recall correctly."

"It's true? My father had a Phoenix?" I gasped excitedly before realizing he might not want me to touch such a beautiful creature and hastily stepping back from the stand. Dumbledore gave a small nod in response. The polite etiquette burned into my brain took over, "I apologize if that was impolite, Headmaster. I've never seen a Phoenix before."

"I am certain Fawkes appreciates the attention," Dumbledore smiled before gesturing to the empty seat across from his desk stacked high with books, parchments, and various magical instruments, "Please. Sit."

I sat in the chair glancing at Fawkes from time to time. Dumbledore let me speak next and busied himself with brushing away the layer of dust on the thin, black box, "You...knew my father?"

"Yes, Calin Vaile consulted with me from time to time about his findings during his research. He was one of the finest magical archeologists the wizarding world had seen in a great many years. Not many men would uncover the magic he did and remain free from the temptation of power like he had," Dumbledore gave me an empathetic frown watching me struggling to respond to the first mention of my father my entire life that wasn't clouded with hated from my family, "I apologize for your loss, Estelle. Truly, Calin Vaile was a brilliant wizard."

"I...didn't know," I gulped hating the inescapable thickness in my throat shifting slightly in my seat, "My family never...has anything good to say about him."

"You should be very proud to call a brave man like him your father. Your parents loved you very much," Dumbledore started opening the box but the lid blocked my view from seeing the contents, "In fact, I fear we should have had this conversation sooner. Professor McGonagall has informed me of your situation. I do wonder, however, why you did not come to myself or your head of house sooner."

"It's strange. No one else sleepwalks," I winced, fully aware of the embarrassing amount of insecurity in my voice, "And my Uncle said I had to stay out of trouble."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment gazing down at the box before him, "I see."

"Are you going to tell him?" I asked. My teeth sank down on my bottom lip remembering the last time I caused a scene at school.

"Normally, I would inform the parents but this is a unique situation and no harm came to you," Dumbledore dismissed my fears closing the box, "And no harm will befall you due to the unique intensity of your dreams. Your father did not leave you without protection."

"Pardon?" I blinked, shaking my head trying to keep up with the confusing statements of the old wizard peering at me through his half-moon spectacles. My exhaustion coated my thoughts thickly enough that instant understanding was a fool's dream. Dumbledore's pastel blue and silver robes draped down his body like a stream of water as he stood handing out the closed black box to me. Tentatively, I took the box. The last layer of dust coating the box tinged the pads of my pale fingers a light grey. It was a smooth leather jewelry box with tiny silver foil initials in the right corner. The letters read out C.B.V. in the faded silver. Calin Brownwyn Vaile? Did my father leave me this? Why did he give it to Dumbledore? Countless questions raged inside my head like a tornado. Part of me felt like I was about to float away, and the other half felt like I was going to explode.

"Your father met your mother a few months after the first occasion we discussed his research. Cordelia and Calin partnered together in hopes their combined efforts would unearth something lost to history long ago that could bring a stop to the war tearing the world apart. Soon they were married, with you on the way. Knowing there were rumors about Voldemort's interest in your father's research and bloodline, he entrusted a few of his possessions with me fearing the worst," Dumbledore told me soberly knowing there was no way to talk to a young girl about the murder of her parents in a way that wouldn't hurt. There was no point sugar-coating it. The box felt heavier on my lap. A few things? What were the others?

There was so much dust. It's been here for twelve years and I had no idea. My teeth stabbed my bottom lip so roughly the skin started to rip. The efforts of keeping my emotions at bay were pathetic. The tears gathering in the corners of my eyes were held back by the rapid flutter of my lashes. But for once, they were tears of joy. My father loved me.

"The druidic claims of your lineage is not a mere lie intended to impress society. The same reason you have not slept is the same reason you excel in Herbology and Charms. I'm sure you have a gift with magizoology, am I correct? It is interesting you dream of a forest. The natural world has called out to your people in both conscious and unconscious realms for a great many centuries-long before Hogwarts even stood," Dumbledore explained gently.

"I'm a seer?" It was hard to keep up with a subject I knew so little about. My head was already throbbing before we started talking.

"Perhaps one day, but you do seem to have the same dreams as your father, who was not gifted with the inner eye I'm afraid. There has not been a true seer in your family for much too long to hope for such a gift. Your consciousness simply travels to the place your heart calls to. However, your magic is not nearly strong enough to support such a feat as a first-year. There is a druidic amulet in the box from your father that will allow you to sleep easier until you have grown into a young witch. It was his as a boy, his father's before that, and so forth," Dumbledore explained to me, "It's called a Glainnaider, which means druid's glass. It is a crystallized snake egg carved with runes."

"Wow," my eyebrows shot up reviewing the flood of new information, "But, Professor, what if I don't want to see the place in my dreams?"

"Perhaps something is calling out to you," Dumbledore hypothesized. Fawkes gave a gentle coo and ruffled his feathers breaking up the heavy conversation. Silence fell between us. The small jewelry box consumed my focus like a hypnotist.

The moment I undid the dust-caked latch an icy cold blast shot up my arms straight to my heart. Little hairs on my arm raised from the goosebumps spreading across my skin. The amulet was simple, understandably as it was unisex, with a thin silver chain and a clear, marble looking sphere stone suspended on the end in a net made from a few small chains and two metal bands. The stone itself looked like a crystalized full moon with strange markings on it. My eyes widened in surprise when I realized I understood the runes. Sacred Moon, Grounding, and Celestial Protection were the three ruins carved into the glass. I had seen ancient runes before but I never understood them like this. I guess they just weren't druidic. Even more surprising was the instant relief of my splitting headache the moment I slipped the chain over my head.

Dumbledore dismissed me to my dormitory soon after I slipped on the necklace. My eyes and body instantly gave into the calming blanket of the Glainnaider. Knowing my father left this for me just in case I would need it brought a new emotion I'd never felt before. It was a warm mixture of fatherly love, comfort, and joy hugging me from head to toe. My body felt like it was floating through the halls like a plump honey bee in summer stumbling on a meadow of wildflowers. I had seen this emotion in Daphne and Astoria's eyes before but it was all mine. I fell asleep clutching the amulet so tightly the chains indented the pattern into my palm. On the other hand, was the picture frame with the goofy picture of my overjoyed father pointing at my mother's pregnancy belly dramatically making her laugh. They were wrong about him. He loved me. And, I love him too.


	8. Chapter Seven: Norberta

It was dark outside when I opened my eyes and sunk down to the common room feeling and looking better than I had in weeks, even with the bed head with a ribbon barely hanging on to my sectioned back hair. Ron was hunched over a chessboard totally focused across from a frustrated Hermione, with Harry slouching in a loveseat with wet hair from the shower room after quidditch practice. There was a charms book open in his lap but he just stared tiredly out the window.

As I got closer, I realized Hermione was giving him a quick outline of the chapter knowing her friend was too tired to do the homework. Spotting me, her face curled into a satisfied, smug look.

"Hermione said you fell asleep with your shoes on. You must have been bloody beat. I've only done that when Mum makes us degnome the yard all day," Ron smirked at me taking an important piece from Hermione, who looked just about ready to throw the chess set out the window.

"Can't be too careful with my wandering feet," I joked, slipping into the open spot beside Harry.

"Don't worry I took your shoes off before your shoes made the bedding filthy," Hermione preened, "I told you that you needed to tell McGonagall. You look much better."

"Yeah," I frowned at her with a slight edge, "I'm just lucky Dumbledore agreed not to tell my Uncle about this. So many people saw me walking to his office though. He'll know the second Daphne gets wind of it."

"Estelle, surely he won't care that you were getting help about your health. Clearly that is more important than gossip," She sniffed too absorbed in making her point to notice the way she was venturing into sensitive territory.

"Clearly, your family doesn't see you like a stain on the family tree," I glared at her hotly, which she instantly returned. Ron and Harry, somewhat used to our recent bickering lately, locked wide eyes.

"You know I'm right, even if you're too proud to admit it. You were barely functioning. Even Sprout was getting sick of you falling asleep in class," Hermione sniffed up her nose mirroring the way Daphne and Pansy used to do from their high horses.

"Do we have to do this?" Ron sighed knowing we were going to completely block out the comment.

"This isn't about pride! If this had gone any differently, my Uncle Jasper might have kicked me out for embarrassing him," I hissed, rolling my eyes knowing we were both raising our voices enough that the people on either side of us were starting to look. Yet neither Hermione nor I cared about their looks. Normally I care too much about looking composed but Hermione had been acting like she knows everything for nearly a month now and I was tired of it.

"Embarrassing him! This is absolutely insane." My closest friend argued raising her voice enough that the common room was fully aware of our argument.

"It's my life, Hermione! They're the only family I have left," I argued back making her slam her mouth shut in the realization that she had gone too far but I was too mad, "I wish my parents were- were...Dubars! Teeth healers! Like your parents are!"

Silence fell between our group and the few groups near us as the tension was high. Hermione, with a sudden jolt, leaned over and pulled me into a hug. We hugged for a moment, and eventually, giggles started rising from our chests, breaking apart to shake with full-on laughter. Wincing and holding a hand to my chest to calm my breathing, I shrugged my shoulders in defeat, "I know it's not dubars. What is it again?"

"Dentist," Hermione and Harry stated, as Harry started chuckling at me the moment the wrong word came out of my mouth despite the argument. The second and fourth years near us had the same shocked expression as Ron who stared at the three of us in horror.

"Mental," He whimpered, waving his arms in defeat, "That's what you three are."

Luckily for the redhead boy, Fred and George happened to be heading up to the dormitories as Ron made his statement clearly just getting off from practice. My hopeless crush on George had eventually taught me how to tell the twins apart due to how many sneak glances I've done since he stood up for me with Pansy and Crabbe. It was so embarrassing. Heat shot up to my face as George rested a hand on the sofa back to lean down to our sitting position, "Wood is the one who's going mental!"

"Made us run laps for making a few jokes," Fred added.

George lightly hit his twin's shoulder, "Harmless really."

"Basically saints," Fred responded.

"Someone has to ease the tension after all," They voiced together this time, "Right, Harry?"

"I'm on Wood's side. We have a chance to beat Slytherin for the first time in seven years," Harry frowned at the twins, "We have a real shot."

"Admire your optimism, Harry," George rolled his eyes.

"Really do." Fred started with his twin joining him, "But Snape's the referee."

"We're doomed!" cried out Ron and Hermione as she gently buried her face in her hands.

"Snape is going to kill Harry," I gasped simultaneously. I noticed George looking at me and slammed my mouth shut. My stomach erupted in tickling butterflies. Hopefully, my face wasn't too red. He must think I'm such a dumb kid.

"We just can't give Snape a reason to give us a penalty," Harry stated as if he just said it was easy as making sure they all tied their shoelaces before flying onto the pitch. The Weasley twins simply scoffed and continued on their way up the stairs. The match was this very weekend. The day before my birthday, which is two days on Friday.

"Gross," Ron curled his lip at me, "You look like a tomato."

"Oh gosh!" I groaned, placing my forehead against my knees in humiliation, "I'm so embarrassing!"

"Do you have to do that every time? It's George," Ron fake gagged. His fingers moved like lightning resetting the chessboard, despite knowing he would be playing himself for the rest of the night.

"I heard you the first forty times you said his name like that," I tossed a throw pillow at him knocking over a few of the pieces.

"Watch the board, Estelle," Ron pouted, redoing what I messed up in the blink of an eye. Winter needs to end so he tones down this obsession. I guess we are all trying our best to deal with cabin fever. Honestly, the snow on the grounds was starting to melt rather quickly. By the end of the week, it should be replaced with muddy puddles where it once was.

"Don't play," Hermione ordered Harry, who was ignoring us. Snape was going to have a better chance to send Harry to the hospital wing this time. I guess that just means we will have to come prepared to take on a grown wizard.

"Pretend you have dragon pox!" I suggested eagerly, "I could use some makeup to make it look convincing. I've seen people with the marks when we visited St.Mugos with Astoria once. I think I have the right colors. Maybe Dean would help. He's good with that sort of thing. Wait, oh my gosh, did you see what he doodled in History of Magic yesterday? It was so funny-."

"Focus! Besides, Elle, people have died from Dragon Pox," Hermione scolded me, surprising me with her next sentence, "It's not believable. Pretend to break your leg."

"Really break your leg," Ron added onto Hermione's statement, totally serious. The horrified look of Harry sent me into a fit of giggles. I was in such a good mood after everything that I heard in the headmaster's office. It was hard not to be.

"I can't!" Harry protested wide-eyed, "There isn't a reserve seeker. We would forfeit."

"I don't know why I'm still surprised you care more about forfeiting the game than your friends breaking your legs but I am," I giggled even harder making Harry push me lightly. A dramatic gasp left my throat as I fixed my hair in an exaggerated way.

Looking at him in the most scandalized way, I pouted, "I'm a lady, Harry. You shouldn't push ladies."

"Lady of the ghouls maybe," Ron scoffed, cutting off my giggled sharply. His face twisted up uncomfortably in regret before weakly adding, "You look a bit better. Now that you slept. Erm, sorry. We were all worried about it."

Suddenly, Bernard jumped onto his chess table knocking off all the pieces and giving out a low growl at the ginger boy. A true Gryffindor, Ron sent me a horrified expression and froze in his spot. Patting my lap lightly, Bernard leapt into my lap curling into a tight ball. He slept the entire day away with me today. Lazybones. It's hard to believe he's a kitten.

"It's okay. I'm not mad. At this point, I'll take lady of the ghouls. At least I'm a noble ghoul," I sighed knowing that a few hours of sleep wasn't going to give the black circles under my eyes, grey-tinted skin, or the lankiness of my normally wavy hair. Thank Merlin for my father. The last time I showered so much of my hair fell out from the stress. The tingles of the icy vibration from the amulet rushed up to my arms as my fingers toyed with the crystal egg. Maybe it was a placebo but every time I touched it I just felt a rush of care from my father I've dreamed so frequently about.

"So, Dumbledore helped?" Harry asked, finally just closing his textbook knowing he wasn't going to read it, "I'm too exhausted for homework. What happened to you today? Did the Malfoy's curse you?"

"Homework is really important, Harry," Hermione frowned but you could barely even hear her over Ron's loud scoff.

"Malfoy's too much of an idiot to pull that off for that long. Maybe his dad helped him out," Ron snapped his fingers like he just solved the mystery. I shook my head with a wince.

I think they may have realized the softness in my new body language because the jokes died off with them patiently waiting for me to continue. Refusing to take off the amulet, I held it out making them all lean in closely. Ron wrinkled his nose at it lightly, "Is that a gob stone?"

"It clearly has runes on it, Ron," Hermione snorted gently, taking it in her hands, "I don't recognize them. Do you know what they say? What is this?"

"My father left it for me. With Dumbledore before You-Know-Who took them," I pulled back readjusting a grumpy Bernard on my lap. My three friends all wore various expressions of surprise. Harry was the first one to react by simply placing a hand on my shoulder and offering a smile of understanding.

"That's wonderful, Elle," Hermione smiled encouragingly.

"It's just like your cloak, Harry!" Ron smiled before blinking in confusion, "Wait, how did your dad know Dumbledore? I thought your grandfather homeschooled him."

"He was but Dumbledore offered his help with my father's research a few times. I suppose he knew it would be safe with Dumbledore just in case," I explained looking at the celestial looking amulet, "It's a family heirloom. Apparently a lot of Vaile children suffer from vivid dreams and the amulet is to stop it until their magic is strong enough. My dad used it when he was my age too. All the Vailes have," I explained smiling bashfully knowing how blissed out I must seem to finally be able to connect with my Father, "It's a druid thing, apparently, to have these dreams. It's called a Glainnaider; Crystallized snake egg is what Dumbledore said."

"Does this mean you're a seer?" Hermione frowned trying to wrap her head around it the same way I was earlier, "I've read about prophetic dreams."

"No," I sighed running a hand through Bernard's thick fur, "It sounds a lot cooler than it is. I just am going to dream about places I love for the rest of my life or places that have high energy or something. I don't really understand it. I don't think it's going to actually be useful though."

"Maybe when you are older," Harry suggested hopefully.

"So, does this mean you really are Merlin's heir? And Nimue is related to you too?" Ron asked, bewildered. Sharing a look with Hermione and Harry excitedly. I sighed fiddling with the amulet again.

"I mean, I guess so but what does that even really mean?" I pouted, "I don't have any special powers besides dreams that make me sick and don't even do anything. Some heir of Merlin I am. I'm not a metamorphous. I can't do transfiguration or astronomy to save my life. So, there's really not even a dream I could ever be an animagus like he was."

"Sucks being normal, doesn't it? At least Harry's famous and Hermione's a brain," Ron sighed with me joining my pity party. At least there was always going to be someone I can count on to complain with me.

"Hey!" Harry pouted along with us, "Feel free to be the Boy Who Lived anytime you want. I'll give you the scar and everything."

"Are you three done being sorry for yourselves?" Hermione rolled her eyes reaching to open the school bag at her feet.

"Not yet," Ron grumbled as a loud rumble of motion fell through the portrait hole. I was halfway there by the time the common room started to fill with giggles. People were starting to fall over from laughing too hard as Neville had from the Leg-Locker Curse placed on him.

"You should all be ashamed of yourselves!" Hermione scolded everyone a step behind me, "He's in your house."

By the second attempt at removing the curse, Hermione's comment silenced the mean laughter into guilty glances. Luckily, for my own pride, it only took one more try to remove it. Hermione would have lost patience by that point probably. Neville's legs flew apart and he was red-faced and downtrodden when he rose to his feet again. I offered the awkward boy an encouraging smile as I steered him to our spot in the corner near the window.

"What happened?" Hermione asked as he sat down shakily.

"Malfoy," He sighed and Harry and Ron both instantly tensed up at the mention of their nemesis, "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

"You just explained half my life," I frowned, understanding how Draco can make you feel, "I'm sorry. You don't deserve that."

"You should tell Professor McGonagall!" Hermione fumed. I couldn't help the slight eye roll at her idea. Doing that would just antagonize him more.

"I don't want more trouble," Neville whimpered. Reaching over, I rubbed his shoulder lightly to give it a friendly squeeze. Bernard caught on and started rubbing his body against Neville's other side.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Ron encouraged, "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make him easier."

"He's right, Neville," I agreed softly.

"You're one to talk, Estelle. You're even worse than I am," Neville frowned at me not realizing the way he just hit a sensitive subject due to his upset mood, "There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor. Malfoy's already done that."

Neville let out a small shudder and whimper. Harry, thinking fast, offered him a Chocolate Frog from his school bag to try to cheer him up before tears spill. Neville took it but still looked on the verge of tears. Does Draco even care how he makes people feel? It's awful. What happened to the kid who'd make daisy chains in the garden with me in the springtime and gave little gifts out of the blue if something reminded him of me when he would go shopping with his parents? He had to still be in there.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry encouraged, "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

I was surprised that I didn't feel jealous anymore that I wasn't there too. Gryffindor felt more like home than my real home ever did. Neville gave a weak smile and bit into the frog. Ignoring the comment from earlier, I tried to comfort Neville again, "He's all hot air and ego. He's just jealous."

"Yeah right," Neville rolled his eyes, rising to his feet, "Thanks, guys. I think I'll go to bed. D'you want the card? You collect them, don't you?"

Neville handed the card to Harry and slouched up the stairs. Chirping slightly, Bernard looked at me before following him upstairs. He had been in the boy's dorm before, which scared Ron at first because of Scabbers but we quickly learned Bernard was too lazy and spoiled to want to go near the rat. Bernard only ate the finest prey. Funnily, anytime it passed the rat it would send it a nasty hiss. Once or twice he started hacking like he was going to throw up a hairball. Neville probably needs a buddy right now anyway. Sweet Bernard. He was starting to be more popular than I was in Gryffindor.

"I've found him!" Harry whispered, "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before. I read it on the train coming here- listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for his discovery of the twelve uses of dragon blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel!"

"Of course!" Hermione jumped to her feet calling behind her, "Stay right there!"

"She only gets that excited when they hand back grades," Ron noted wondering what she was about to pull down those stairs. The name still sounded familiar but it still wasn't placeable. Maybe Uncle Jasper made a random comment about him one day. And alchemy? That's really old magic. No wonder I didn't find anything in the estate library. Anything on ancient magic was stored in Jasper's study.

Hermione flew down the steps moments later with a huge, beige tomb in her arms. It landed on the table with a loud thud earning us annoyed looks from the table next to us.

"I never thought to look in here. I had you looking in the wrong section! How could I be so stupid? I checked this out a few weeks ago for a bit of light reading," She scolded herself. I caught Ron's horrified look and tried not to giggle at his reaction.

"This is light?" He winced looking at her like she grew another head for the twentieth time that night. The giggles I was holding in flew out at the icy glare she sent him.

"Of course! Here it is! "Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!" She breathed a sigh of relief. We had been looking so long for this step of the puzzle but what were we supposed to do with that information?

"The what?" Harry and Ron frowned. Hermione simply rolled her eyes at the boys.

"Honestly, don't you three read?" She deadpanned looking at us.

"Look at them. I know what it is. It's one of the only ways you can live forever," I explained, admittedly poorly, before adding with a wince, "I think it makes gold too? Or silver? Diamonds?"

"The Philosopher's Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. It will turn any metal into pure gold and produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal," Hermione explained to the boys in a far more educated way than I did. Pointing at her in agreement, she rolled her eyes with a small, friendly smirk at me. I knew she loved moments like this.

"Immortal?" Ron responded.

"Really?" I asked in shock and surprise at his confusion.

While I looked surprised at his statement, Hermione just buzzed by, not surprised by his I.Q., "It means you'll never die."

"I know what it means!" Ron protested childishly.

"It didn't seem like it. It's okay, Ron. It's just us," I shrugged looking at Harry who shared my teasing smile at Ron.

"The only stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist, who last year celebrated his 665th birthday!" That's what Fluffy's guarding on the 3rd floor. That's what's under the trapdoor. The Philosopher's Stone!" Hermione whispered making sure no one could overhear us.

"Well, now what do we do?" I frowned.

"I know," Harry smirked standing up, "Hermione's going to hate this."

"If you are suggesting we go ask Hagrid, I'm in," She nodded. The determination ignited in her eyes passionately. Hermione thundered up the stairs to return the book back to the dorm room. Locking eyes with Ron, as Harry ran up the stairs to get his invisibility cloak, Ron looked at me with slight fear, "We've made a monster." 

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The only good thing about fitting four eleven year old's under a single invisibility cloak was that it was warm. Even though the last of the snow had mostly melted while I was asleep, the chilly night breeze sliced through my tights, purple floral dress, and uniform robe. Rob's lanky elbow's kept jabbing me in the collar and Hermione's hair was suffocating me. This was one of the worst times to be the shortest in our group.

The closer we got to Hagrid's hut the more my skin tingled and the dizzier I felt. Knowing we were out of danger of being caught on the outskirts of the grounds, I paused letting the cloak uncover me for some fresh air. What was going on? I feel so strange.

"Estelle, you are going to get us caught!" Hermione hissed pulling me back under the cloak. My head swam slightly at the brutish pull. We were only a few strides from the door.

"Do you three feel that?" I swallowed thickly feeling a bit green, "It's like waves of energy coming from his hut."

"Shh!" Hermione hissed at me despite arriving at the door just moments later. The bookish girl looked around carefully before reaching a hand out and pounding on the door. Harry swept the cloak off us as Hagrid peered out the door through a small crack. The heat and energy from the hut escaped and hit me like a curse. My body swayed slightly bumping into Ron, who looked weirded out by my behavior. He did clumsily make sure I was stable in my footing with a firm hand on my shoulder.

"Hagrid!" We all said when he recognized the people pounding on his door. Hagrid looked at me and shook his head politely shutting the door as he spoke.

"Bernard isn't here tonight. Haven't seen him since this morning. Best go look somewhere else for the bugger," Hagrid brushed off tensely going to move the door shut. I swayed again from another wave of dizziness.

"He's in the common room. May we come in please?" I frowned. Normally, Hagrid's hut was a good guess on where Bernard was. The growing kitten adored Hagrid nearly as much as he adored sleeping on Fang. The big dog's bed was next to the fire and his fur was already warm for little Bernard.

"Sorry, don't wish to be rude, but I'm in no fit state to entertain today," Hagrid said ignoring my comment politely shutting the door in our faces.

Our collective irritation at the lack of invitation prompted us to all scream at the nearly shut door, "We know about the Philosopher's Stone!"

Slowly the door opened wider and I had another dizzy spell. Hagrid looked at us wide-eyed and at a loss for words, "Oh."

Hagrid turned on his heel and guided us into the hut, which was boiling hot. Even I took off my cloak, and I'm always cold. The energy in the hut was pulsating and pounding against my body. I basically threw myself down onto one of the oversized seats. Maybe the amulet is messing with me and my body is just trying to adjust to it.

"We think Snape is trying to steal it," Harry explained as we nodded in support. Hagrid let out a deep, tired sigh and shook his head. I could hardly focus on the things they were saying with the pulsing air around me. Closing my eyes tightly and leaning against the wall, I listened to Hagrid respond sounding tired of this game, "Snape? Blimey, Harry, you're not still on about him, are you?"

"Hagrid, we know he's after the Stone. We just don't know why," Harry whined frustrated that our closest adult wouldn't even listen to our theory.

"Snape is one of the teachers protecting the Stone! He's not about to steal it!" Hagrid scolded us sternly, which was a shocking enough statement that no one noticed the small groan from the intense spins of nausea and motion sickness.

"What?" Harry cried in shock mirroring the expressions of Ron and Hermione. I didn't want to think about my expression right now. A small trickle of liquid started to drip from my left nostril. Hagrid tried again to shoo us away but even if my friends weren't the most stubborn people at Hogwarts I don't think I would be able to move.

"You heard. Right. Come on, now, I'm a bit preoccupied today," Hagrid tried herding the standing first years toward the door but they merely stepped out his way.

"Wait a minute," Harry perked up realizing Hagrid slipped up and said another clue to our mystery, "One of the teachers?"

Hermione let out an excited gasp in understanding as another set of spins washed over me, "Of course! There are other things defending the Stone, aren't there? Spells, enchantments."

"That's right. Waste of bloody time, if you ask me," Hagrid smirked proudly and I reached over to Ron and pulled the sleeve of his sweater, "Ain't no one gonna get past Fluffy. Hehe, not a soul knows how. Except for me and Dumbledore. I shouldn't have told you that. I shouldn't have told you that."

"I think I'm going to faint," I gagged in Ron's direction, who leapt to his feet alarmed. The sudden movement sent my body laying across where he was just sitting.

"Bloody hell! Your nose is bleeding, Elle!" Ron cried while I just groaned. Finally everyone looked at me and noticed the state I was in but before anyone had a chance to say anything the cauldron over the fire started to shake violently. As if it was controlling the sickness I felt, I let out another groan slamming my eyes shut.

"Oh!" Hagrid cried, running over to the black pot and pulling out a large egg. Bouncing it in his hands at the heat of it, he brought it over to the table. A sudden burst of energy shot through me as I made my way to the kitchen table where Hagrid placed the huge egg. The brown shade of the egg looked like a tiger's eye stone.

"What is going on?" I groaned out leaning on the table heavily. Good thing it was made with a large man like Hagrid in mind so there was no issue supporting my weight.

"Oh!" Hagrid winced stuttering, "I, um,-."

"I know what that is!" Ron smiled excitedly fascinated by the egg before him that wouldn't stop rattling, "But Hagrid, how did you get one?"

"I won it. Off a stranger, I met down at a pub. Seemed quite glad to be rid of it, as a matter of fact," Hagrid grinned excitedly as the egg rattled more and more violently. My legs quivered slightly and Hermione threw an arm around my waist to keep me upright. The egg started to crack and with it my vision started to blur.

Then like a balloon popping, everything stopped. The spinning, nausea, the sweating, the nose bleed all slammed to a stop and I fell to the ground slightly. Pulling myself up by the edge of the table and my strength rapidly returned, my vision focused on a little green dragon cooing at Hagrid.

"Is that..?" Hermione trailed off. I couldn't even speak. My mouth was wide open in shock. It was...a real baby dragon. I wanted to study dragons when I was a little girl, which isn't true anymore, but my fascination with the beasts still lingered.

"That's not just a dragon. That's a Norwegian Ridgeback! My brother Charlie works with these in Romania," Ron explained to us and I just nodded along dumbly knowing the facts were right from my own studies. The little, unstable lizard cried out looking for it's mother.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid cooed, making the dragon instantly imprint on him and run to him, "Oh. Bless him, look. He knows his mummy. Hehe. Hallo, Norbert."

"Norbert?" Harry winced at the very cutesy name for what will one day be a full-grown dragon.

Without thinking or even realizing what I was saying, I blurted out, "I think it's a girl."

"What makes you say that?" Hagrid blinked at me and I just shrugged not having any logical explanation. Hagrid started cooing at the baby in his hands and making a baby voice to her, "Don't you, Norbert?"

Hagrid set Nobert down and without missing a beat, the dragon shot a small ball of fire directly into his beard setting it aflame. Quickly Hagrid put out the fire with his cooking mitts before looking at the kids before him nervously, "Ohh! Oooh, ooh, ooh, well...he'll have to be trained up a bit, of course."

"She," I corrected again this time more firmly, "It's a girl. She doesn't like it when you call her a boy."

Everyone turned to me with confusion alive in their faces but I was too focused at the little dragon staring up at me. As our eyes locked, tendrils of energy felt like they were being exchanged between us. The confusion was in the backseat of my heart as it overflowed with wonder and connection to this great beast of magical energy. It felt like the amulet around my neck was growing warm. The little dragon cooed at me, walking toward me and turning its head down slightly in what seemed to be respected. The moment, felt like an eternity to me, lasted only a couple seconds before the little baby started trotting around the table happily testing out its new legs.

"Well," Hagrid cocked his head at me in surprise, "I've been doin' some readin'. Got Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit, bit outta date o'course but it said the myth 'bout Dragon Lords was jus' a trick the Druids used to scare people off. Maybe it's not so wrong, after all."

"Dragon what?" Harry blinked as Hagrid made sure the little dragon didn't fall from the table.

"Oh yeah!" Ron breathed excitedly, shaking my shoulder lightly from beside me, "On the chocolate frog card! Merlin was supposed to be the last of them."

"Dragonlord?" Hermione blinked in uncertainty but eager for information, "I've never heard of anything like that."

"Lots of people think they are a myth. Charlie used to love this comic, Edgar The Dragonlord. Never really got into it myself. But Estelle can't be one anyway," Ron rattled off still more focused on the dragon, like myself.

"Why not?" I frowned tightly. Is it so unbelievable that I might be something special? I definitely had a special connection with the dragon and my body reacted to its birth into the world.

"You're a girl! Dragonlords were strong men," Ron rolled his eyes.

"I don't see why gender matters at all!" Hermione huffed dramatically nudging me in the shoulder lightly, "I bet Estelle could do it."

"Alright, let's see then. Estelle try to give Norbert a command," Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione who nodded at me in determination. I felt uncomfortable between the two arguing first years. I locked eyes with Harry, who gave a weak shrug and sighed.

"Norbert," I called weakly, making the dragon look in my direction, "Spin around."

A moment passed in silence, but we all sighed in disappointment when Norbert simply went back to sniffing the wood of the table. There was not even a slight chance the dragon was going to listen to me. My heart sank slightly in my chest. Of course, who was I to think I could control dragons? That magic was lost so many centuries ago for a reason

Before any of us had a chance to comment on my failure, Hagrid squinted his eyes and peered at the window, "Who's that?"

My heart sank when I saw the quick flash of silver-blonde hair fleeing from the window. Wrinkling my nose in anger and displeasure, I breathed, "Malfoy."

"Oh, dear," Hagrid shoulders sank in the realization that one of the worst people to see his illegal dragon now had full knowledge of it.

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The next day even Hermione had trouble paying attention in our classes. The rest I had finally gotten was wasted with so much to distract us from learning. From the discovery of the Philosopher's Stone, to Norberta and Draco, to the upcoming game against Slytherin , we didn't stand a chance. Only Hermione was strong enough to push it out of her mind to take notes. Ron, Harry, and I went from discussing what we would do with The Philosopher's Stone, to excitement about the upcoming game, to worrying about Hagrid's dangerous game with Draco, who looked rather pleased with himself in the most unsettling way. He even winked at me when we caught each other's gaze.

Even without the knowledge of the stone or the dragon, the rest of the school was buzzing with excitement over the game as well. No one had overtaken Slytherin in the House Championship in seven years and Gryffindor actually had a shot. Even the other houses were excited for the break in Slytherin's luck.

But by the time Friday came, the excitement reached levels that teachers started easing up in classes and homework knowing it was a losing battle. Beyond the excitement of the game was the fact I turned twelve. Nerves had prevented me from really making a big deal about it because I really wasn't sure if I should get my hopes up with my family or not. Birthdays were always a huge celebration in the Greengrass family, as it was in most pureblood households that wanted an excuse to show off and celebrate their greatness. But eventually, I started disliking my birthday due to the parties. The kids I grew up with always just used it as an excuse to tease me with so much attention being on me. Daphne always made me feel special on my birthday though. She never went far enough to actually stand up for me in any way to our friends but she made me feel special by complimenting me and buying me special gifts. Draco was the best gift giver though.

They wouldn't even look in the direction of the Gryffindor table when everyone sang me Happy Birthday over a plate of pancakes. Most people were looking at the loud display as well, but they both pointedly refused to look. Even with the kindness of my friends, it was hard not to be totally heartbroken. Draco went out of his way to avoid me all day too. Mail arrived and when I received nothing from my Uncle or Astoria, Hermione followed me to the bathroom and comforted me as I cried over the empty spot in my heart. It was my hardest birthday yet, and more so than any birthday before, I just wanted my parents. It was hard to get excited about the trip to Hagrid's hut for the poorly baked cake he made for me and a chance to play with Norberta.

I was stalking through the halls with mopey footsteps in a rare moment of being alone when Jareth sauntered into my path. The hallway was relatively empty but the few people turned to stare at the third year who dramatically threw his arms open in declaration, "Happy Birthday! Maybe I would have known it was your birthday if you showed up for tutoring yesterday afternoon."

"Leave me alone, Jareth. You've done enough damage," I pursued my lips attempting to sidestep him gracefully, but the boy simply spun on his heel and grabbed a shoulder.

"Damage? Judging from the lack of purple under your eyes, I'd say I made the right call. Normally when people go out of their way to help you, you show gratitude," He leaned down at my smaller frame with a displeased frown. The light-hearted tone in his voice was nearly undetectable in the tone of his voice and the tightness in his narrowed eyes. As any child raised in pureblood society was taught, he lowered his voice so as to not create a scene that would make you look bad. We both held ourselves in the stiff, detached aura that saturated tense social gatherings of the Wizarding elite.

"You should know better than anyone what that could have done to me. My Uncle said I couldn't cause any more trouble or attention to myself," I hissed pointedly glancing at the small group of Ravenclaw upperclassmen looking out a window at the emerging spring season across the grounds.

"You-, Can't you see-," Jareth stammered too aggravated with my statement to even form a sentence. Gathering his thoughts, he glared down at me tensely talking with a pointed finger tensely, "Clearly you'd rather die than realize the fact no matter what you do you will never be the niece you were before you became a Gryffindor. You're branded now. It's pointless. Killing yourself for someone's approval that doesn't even love you isn't going to change anything."

"You don't know anything about my life!" I sneered, feeling like Malfoy and pushing down the guilt that came with it, and frowned at him, "It's just... complicated. Why are you so determined to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?"

"Tell me. Did they even tell you Happy Birthday?" He sneered back, in true pureblood fashion, and didn't back down when he saw the sting of his comment, "Fine. Live with your delusions. Can't believe I thought I could help you."

"Help me?" I scoffed, "I'm not a project."

"Merlin forbid I tried to help you with the same things I went through," He backed away turning to walk away and scoffed over his shoulder, "Such a proud little Gryffindor. Happy Birthday."

With an exhale of irritation, I kept walking with angry footsteps thumping against the stone floors forcefully. Who did he think he was to talk about my home life like that? Especially after he put it at so much risk. I can't believe I actually thought I found a friend that understood what I felt like. I can't believe I was starting to look up to such a self-focused person like Jareth.

My anger and sadness ruined the rest of my birthday. Even Hagrid's cheerful mood couldn't pull me out of it. I tried my best to put on a show for everyone who cared about this but it was so difficult when there felt like such a huge part was missing. Most people were so excited they couldn't sleep that night but my tears put me out pretty quickly. All I can say is I'm glad Hermione didn't force me to talk about anything.

My mood was significantly better the next morning but nerves about Snape killing Harry made me fret over him in a motherly way. When we said good luck to him before the game I tried to remember his face just in case he didn't make it to the end of the match breathing. The whole school turned out, and Dumbledore attended as well. My anxieties were calmed slightly when I saw the long, white beard of the headmaster. Surely Snape wasn't foolish enough to try anything with Dumbledore here, right?

We had practiced the Leg-Locker curse in case Snape tried anything suspicious. Hermione, Ron, and I were possibly more focused on Snape than we were on the exciting game about to be being played before us with their wands tucked into their sleeves and my hand resting on my wand holster. Snape must have realized Dumbledore was watching and he couldn't try anything because he looked very furious when he ventured on the pitch.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," Ron commented to us, "Look-They're off. Ouch!"

The three of us turned around confused as to who and why someone just forcefully poked Ron in the back of the head. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Gogyle sneered down at us from their spot behind us. Shouldn't they be in their own tower?

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there," Malfoy lied badly snickering with his cronies. I caught his eye and glared angrily. He merely raised one eyebrow at my display.

"Gryffindor brutishness finally rubbing off on you, Vaile?" Malfoy drawled lazily, "Doesn't look good on you but then again nothing does."

Hermione grabbed my shoulder and lightly pulled me to watch the match start. The three of us ignored Draco but he pressed on, "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley? Maybe Vaile can give you a loan."

We ignored him. Snape awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George sent a bludger at him. A lot of people would have loved to see it hit him. We tried to focus on Harry in case anything happened to our friend but Malfoy's commentary made it hard.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" Malfoy said louder this time craving a reaction from us, "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money. You should be on the team, Longbottom. You've got no brains."

"I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy," Neville stammered angrily at the boy who finally got a reaction he'd been aiming for. Without missing a beat Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle exploded with laughter.

"You tell him, Neville," Ron encouraged his friend without taking his eyes from Harry. The game was heating up. Now would be the time Snape tried to do something with so much going on.

"Longbottom, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than the Weasleys and that's saying something!" Malfoy's cold grin spread across his face. Finally breaking my focus on Harry, I turned around to glare at him angrily. Malfoy locked eyes with me and smirked predatorily toward me clearly enjoying the effect of his bullying. 'Finally,' his eyes seemed to scream.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy," Ron gritted his teeth, "One more word!"

"Elle, Ron!" Hermione called to us urgently, "Harry!"

"What? Where?" Ron's head became a blur trying to locate his best friend. Harry made the crowd of students and teachers erupt in cheers as he made a steep dive toward the ground like an arrow.

"You're in luck, Weasley! Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!" Malfoy snickered not relenting from his attack. Ron was on Draco wrestling him to the ground of the wooden stands before Draco could even let out a horrified cry for help to his bodyguards. Hermione was too busy cheering on Harry to notice that Neville joined the brawl with Draco, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle happening behind her. My mouth covered my hand in horror watching the boys fight like animals before me. Thoughts flew through my brain too quickly to think of a plan to make them stop. Cheers shook the stands, and I looked back to the pitch to see that Harry had caught the snitch before the game even went on for thirty minutes. It was the shortest match I've ever seen. The boys brawling didn't even notice the game ended but Hermione was too wrapped up in the game and was jumping with joy with Parvati.

———————————————————————————————

Gryffindor was finally in the lead. No one was happier than Oliver Wood. The party in the Gryffindor common room raged until the food ran out and the eyes of the ruby robed students grew heavy. Bernard seemed to be the only one not pleased with the celebration and watched the loud party with narrowed eyes and ears flicked back from the stairs. Childishly, I couldn't help but find joy in the fact my house was winning over both Jareth and Draco. They both needed a reality check.

Neville, who was knocked out by either Crabbe or Goyle, was very excited about the news when we visited him in the hospital wing on Sunday morning. Ron was possibly the happiest, as Draco was donning a dark black eye given to him by the ginger boy. I couldn't help but be nervous about what this would do with the delicate situation with Norberta. Draco wasn't going to just let this go. We beat his house and his face.

Draco seemed to realize the power he had over our group, as we did. He sent us icy smirks during potions and when our paths crossed in the halls. It felt like sand trickling down an hourglass as we waited for the string of good events to come to a close. Harry tried to convince Hagrid to let him go but both Hagrid and I refused to let such a helpless baby face the world like that. We couldn't betray the little guy but something needed to be done. It had grown four times the size in just a week and a half. Someone was going to notice soon, especially because Hagrid's duties as groundskeeper was falling to the background. It was Ron who finally thought of the brilliant plan to write to his brother Charlie, who studies dragons professionally. It seemed like the perfect plan. Not long after, Ron and I were both bitten by Norberta when helping Hagrid with feeding time. Norberta was eating whole mice by the pound. Ron's finger swelled to nearly triple it's size, throbbed painfully, and turned a sickly green shade. His irritation that nothing happened to my bite was very open. 'Weird druid blood,' He mumbled, staring at his hand defeated. It was time for the dragon to go. Even I had to admit it. Luckily Ron's brother wrote back and confirmed he would come to take it. All we needed to do was get it to the tallest tower on Sunday night.

Until it wasn't the perfect plan anymore. We had to go to Madam Pomfrey for Ron's hand. Ron was in the hospital all day and when we went to check on him at the end of the day we learned about a massive issue. Draco tricked Madam Pomfrey into giving him Ron's textbook with the letter from Charlie hidden in it. He knew about the plan but it was too late to change anything. We only had one shot.

Only I felt bad for Hagrid when that night finally came. I had gotten attached to the beast too but the others were more anxious to get this over with. The odds were not in our favor, even with the cloak of invisibility. We managed to get Norberta to Charlie's friends without a hitch. I didn't even care about the strange looks I was sent as I cried over the growing dragon. Norberta didn't understand what was going on and excitedly flew off with her new friends.

It wasn't until Filch's voice broke our happy daze that we realized we left the cloak on the top of the tower. The creepy man marched us right to McGonagall's office. Hermione was trembling nearly as much as I was. My Uncle was going to kill me. I could barely focus on anything with my lungs tightening so relentlessly. Tears coated my cheeks in a salty shine. Harry and Ron tried to think of a possible cover story but it was too late. We were doomed.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the Astronomy Tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves!" McGonagall bristled down at us, looking even more terrifying than the idea of a full-grown Norberta.

No one knew what to say to our head of house. We couldn't possibly sell out Hagrid. He could lose his job and where he lived if they found out he was reckless enough to try and raise a dragon on school grounds. My body couldn't stop shaking and my tears just grew thicker and thicker.

"I think I have a good idea of what's going on," McGonagall said when no one responded, "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon trying to get him out of bed and in trouble. I've already caught him."

Draco got caught too. He tried to rat us out but McGonagall didn't believe that he was actually telling the truth about the dragon. I bet the silver-haired brat is furious and terrified of his father's anger. This wasn't a good look on a Malfoy heir. McGonagall pressed on, "I'm disgusted. Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All four of you will receive detentions. Nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days. It's very dangerous."

"And fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor," McGonagall declared, making all four of our jaws drop.

"Fifty?" Harry gasped knowing we would no longer be in first for the house cup.

"Each." She pursed her lips coldly at us. The blood pounding in my head halted instantly. It felt like a bucket of ice had fallen over me. My lungs even froze in my anxious wheezing.

"Professor please, you can't-," Harry tried to protest but our head of house sharply raised a hand of silence.

"Do not tell me what I can and can not do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you! I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

Two hundred points were lost in mere minutes. We went from first place to dead last. The entire school was going to find out in the morning and it was all our fault. Slytherin would be the only people who didn't hate us but it would be because we directly influenced their spot in the competition. That night, we all went to bed with anxious hearts but my mind was more focused on the fact she would be writing to our parents. What was my Uncle going to do? If saving the school from a troll made him lecture me and cut me off from the Greengrass vault, what was this going to make him do? I could handle the students hating me but my Uncle terrified me.


	9. Chapter Eight: Outcasts Brave The Forest

People didn't believe the Gryffindor point hourglass outside the Great Hall at first but news of our night spread quickly. As fast as Harry had risen as a hero for winning the match, we became outcasts and hated even faster. Everyone but the Slytherins seemed to stare at us with hatred wherever we went. Slytherins cheered us on obnoxiously shrinking me down to a mouse every time they shouted at us.

Beck and Jareth found me one day and Beck simply glared at me stating, "You and your little idiot friends ruined everything."

"I didn't realize you were such a fool," Jareth added before they walked off seething with anger. Liza walked behind them and roughly pushed me to the ground by shoving her hand into my chest. No one helped me up but rather cheered in encouragement.

Daphne approached me for the first time since my sorting at school, as Ron, Harry, Hermione, and myself were trying to make our way through the halls without causing any outbursts. The pretty blonde, easily one of the prettiest girls in our year, coldly looking me up and down standing with her arms crossed, "Father's furious. If your actions didn't make Slytherin win, he probably would have kicked you out onto the street. I wonder if this will make him blast you off the family tree."

"Piss off, Greengrass," Ron stepped in front of me seeing the way my body shrunk and eyes grew glassy. Any confidence I had built over the year had been smashed to pieces this week. I wasn't as tough as Ron, Harry, or Hermione. The mean glares felt like they were ripping me to shreds. Why does everyone always grow to dislike me? Am I really a mistake?

It was as if she heard my thoughts. Daphne scoffed icily at Ron flipping a section of blond hair off her shoulder, "Oh, please, Weasley. As if I'm scared of you."

No one responded as she sauntered off meeting up with Theodore and Blaise down the hall. Theodore turned around and gave me a huge thumbs up before turning the corner out of sight. The only thing I could do was run to the nearest bathroom and cry until our next class.

Hermione's only way to cope was throwing herself into insane study schedules for the upcoming end of term exams. I studied with her, as Jareth was no longer helping me learn Transfiguration. Passing, that class especially, seemed to be a daunting task right now. Hermione helped where she could but she was too caught up in her own chaotic studying to help too much. We all stayed up till the early hours of the night memorizing potions, charms, and historical dates. Teachers piled on the homework and Easter break passed in the blink of an eye with how much work needed to be finished. I was too scared to go home and Uncle Jasper didn't request me to come home. Astoria even wrote to me asking what I did but I was too ashamed to write back. I don't even know what story I would tell.

Ron was our rock. He constantly tried to cheer us up. Hermione and Harry were both nearly as upset as I was. Hermione was ashamed she broke the rules and Harry was upset he let down the whole school he loved so much. Ron tried to say things like, "They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

But they didn't forget no matter how much time passed. We were outcasts. February and most of March had passed before we heard the word of our detention finally being carried out as if our everyday lives weren't bad enough punishment. Ron's birthday had even passed with his siblings barely being able to force out a Happy Birthday wish.

None of us complained as we waited in the entrance hall, at eleven, because we all knew that we deserved this. Even with Malfoy sneering happily at us from off to the side. I can't believe they were making Draco serve detention with us. Couldn't they have given him a different one? It was like he smelled the crushed spirit on me once more and kept smirking at me. There was no chance to antagonize me with Filch leading us to somewhere outside in the darkness of the twilight sky. I didn't understand why they were punishing us for sneaking out by making us break curfew but maybe it was a twisted joke that went over my head.

"A pity they let the old punishments die. There was time detention would find you hanging by your thumbs in the dungeons. God, I miss the screaming," Filch drawled creepily as we made our way near Hagrid's hut. I caught Ron's eye who winced at the horrifying statement but said nothing.

"You'll be serving detention with Hagrid tonight. He's got a little job to do inside the dark forest," Filch sneered at us as he walked us up to the familiar hut with Hagrid standing outside holding a large lantern. My anxieties soothed slightly in the presence of our friend but Draco's energy was too hard to simply ignore.

"A sorry lot this, Hagrid," Filch jested to Hagrid who still was devastated about saying goodbye to Norberta. He turned to the four Gryffindors with a sneer, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, children- It's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

Malfoy froze slightly off to the side from our little group appearing terrified, "The forest? I thought that was a joke! We can't go in there. Students aren't allowed. And there are werewolves!"

"There's more than werewolves in those trees, lad. You can be sure of that," Filched grinned at his terror happily before turning to walk away, "Nighty-night."

Hagrid wasted no time in herding us to the tree line, "Right. Let's go."

Draco got closer to me as we entered the forest. I don't think I'd seen him this terrified since we were children. It wasn't often he let people see his fear like this. He was far too proud. I, on the other hand, was an odd mixture of fear and excitement. There were so many interesting plants and creatures in these woods. If it weren't so dangerous and forbidden to students, I'm sure I would have memorized at least half of it by now. It felt good to be in a forest again. Even if the energy here was thick with danger. The moonlight and the dim lanterns passed out by Hagrid offered too poor of light to investigate the plant life we passed as we made our journey in silence. A deep howl sent Draco fumbling into my side grabbing my arm tightly. When our eyes met, he huffed stiffly, jumping away from me in embarrassment.

My head started to throb again as we walked near a silvery puddle of liquid in the middle of a clearing. Hagrid bent down and rub some between his fingers to inspect the liquid. The familiar pounding of my head overwhelmed with the same feeling of Norberta's birth came over me in a less crippling fashion. My nerves felt like they were being rubbed with sharp ice shards.

"What is that?" I gagged.

"What we're here for. See that? Unicorn's blood, that is. I found one dead a few weeks ago. Now, this one's been injured badly by something," Hagrid sighed somberly twisting my heart painfully. Who would slay something as pure as a Unicorn? They are the embodiment of untainted goodness. Hagrid nodded to the first years around him sternly trying to fill the authority figure role, "Ron, Hermione, you'll come with me."

"Okay," Ron wheezed weakly. His eyes were stuck on the pile of blood in terror. He must be scared of who would do something like that too.

"Harry and Estelle, you go with Malfoy," Hagrid nodded to the two boys beside me. I winced hating the idea of being alone with an on-edge Draco.

"Okay. Then I get Fang!" Draco demanded in a poor attempt to hide his terror. It was clear that we were all feeling the same thing but he was just too proud to admit that.

"Fine. Just so you know, he's a bloody coward," Hagrid deadpanned to Draco who looked at the sluggish dog beside him. The dog must have understood Hagrid's insult and let out a weak whine. Draco's weight shifted on his feet and his fingers tightened his robes around his shoulders. Silver eyes scanned the trees around us jumpily. Harry and I locked annoyed eyes. He didn't want to work with Draco anymore than I did.

As we made our way through the forest, Draco's fear started to manifest in pure distaste and repulsion. The pale lips curled upwards in repulsion at every tree we pass. The misty fog created a mystical ambiance of what felt like another world. Everything was blurred by the fog on the forest floor. It felt like eyes were hiding in the whiteness from behind trees and bushes hoping one of us would trip or stumble into their grasps. I recognized so many of the plants we passed now that we were walking slower. We were wandering around and jumped at every sound now that Hagrid wasn't here.

The only constant sound was the sound of Malfoy's scoffs, Fang's whines, and the crunching of leaves and branches under our shoes. My fingers toyed with my amulet nervously. The thing that hurt that unicorn is still out there somewhere. Hurting children seemed like a breeze compared to the beautiful unicorn. Daphne was obsessed with unicorns as a little girl. I wonder if she knew the forest on school grounds housed a herd. I doubt she would care anymore.

"You wait till my father hears about this. This is servant's stuff," Draco spat and I winced. Lucius would never allow his son to be sent into the forest at night without supervision. Draco was his heir. Even if he was toxic, Lucius did love Draco a lot. I wonder if my Uncle would even bat an eye.

"If I didn't know better, Draco, I'd say you were scared," Harry responded, poking the angry bear. I wish they would just stay silent. Their hatred for each other was too much for that wish to even be slightly realistic though.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco scoffed angrily whipping around at the sound of a deep sound not too far, "Did you hear that? Come on, Fang."

"Scared," Draco scoffed under his breath, speeding away from the sound with the large dog at his heel. I rolled my eyes at the prideful boy but didn't speak. He knew too many sensitive topics to antagonize him. We walked in silence for a while. Occasionally we would pass a leaf or patch of the silvery liquid from earlier. As we walked, the spots grew more and more frequent. The nauseating feeling rubbing against my nerves grew stronger and stronger as we walked in this direction. It felt like a bad sign but I kept it to myself. We didn't exactly have a choice right now. Suddenly, Fang stopped and a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest. A warning.

"What is it, boy?" I prompted the dog, who stared ahead at a clearing surrounded by large, towering oak trees that surrounded it in a circle. The trees seemed to vibrate with energy sending it into my feet from the tangled roots. But the figures in the clearing is what I focused on. There was a large hooded figure leaning over a still unicorn. The painful stillness of the beast could only mean one thing. It was dead and whatever was leaning over it killed it. My stomach flipped.

The figure lifted it's head and peered in our direction. Suddenly, Harry fell to his knees clutching his forehead where his scar laid. My knees hit the roots of the trees roughly reaching out to my friend consumed with worry. Draco tugged the back of my robe roughly, let out a loud scream, and bolted away from the figure in terror. His quivering voice grew distant as he screeched for help.

My fingers pulled at Harry's robes to force him to stand. The figure, hissing, and gliding, started to come for us. Panting in fear, Harry started to move backward too scared to think about running. I tried my best to pull at his robes refusing to leave him but he was frozen at the sight of the figure. A large tree branch from one of the overhead oaks caught our backward shuffle and sent us flying into the web of thick roots. We tried our best to crawl away backward but my stomach dropped in the realization that we were not strong enough wizards to even hope to defend ourselves. As if the universe heard my inner calls for help, A large mass flew over us and sped toward the hooded figure aggressively. The blur slowed into the figure of a male centaur who was using his front hooves to shoo away the terrifying figure. The clomps of his hooves echoed in the oak tree clearing. My hand never let go of my grip on Harry's robe. The Centaur successfully sent the hooded figure flying into the cloud of fog in the distance. Frozen in the web of tree roots, Harry used my relentless grip on his robes to hoist me to a standing position. The sound of the centaur's hooves echoed as he made his way closer to our spot. It wasn't until then that I noticed the shaking of my body. Harry unlatched my hand from his robes and stepped forward.

"Harry Potter, you must leave. You are known to many creatures here. The forest is not safe at this time. Especially for you," The Centaur spoke directly to Harry. My eyes fell back to the unicorn that laid in the dirt. Without thinking, I ran to the beast in hopes that there was a chance it could be helped. Horror consumed me. There was no breathing and its side was covered with a long deep gash spewing silver blood across the ground. It was the strangest looking mud I'd ever seen. My eyes filled with tears at the overwhelming feeling the sight was giving me. Shakily my hands reached out and closed the glassy eyes of the slain unicorn. A shutter came from my lips.

"But what was that thing you saved me from?" Harry asked from behind me. A guttural sound echoed in the clearing turning the centaur's attention to me from the violent emptying of my stomach. I barely looked away from the creature laying in front of me to look at the Centaur who walked closer to me, eyeing me.

"I sense the old blood in you child," The Centaur nodded. The statement was enough to force me to look away into the eyes of the magical being who frowned at me, "Your people were once so great. You have dwindled so very far. Once, it was your kind that protected nature's magic, like the unicorn from monsters who would slay a creature of the old religion. But, you are just a mere shadow of what once was."

"I don't understand why someone would do this," I cried looking back at the beast, too overwhelmed to understand what the Centaur was talking about. He looked so unimpressed with me. So dejected. So disappointed.

The Centaur looked at both of us in calm sorrow, "A monstrous creature. It is a terrible crime to slay a unicorn. Drinking the blood of a unicorn will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death. But at a terrible price. You have slain something so pure that the moment the blood touches your lips, you will have a half-life. A cursed life."

"But who would do such a thing?" I whimpered overwhelmed with the emotions of seeing a dead unicorn. The energy in the air was drenched with sorrow to the point it felt like I was going to suffocate.

"Can you think of no one?" The Centaur asked looking directly at my friend who gulped in understanding. His skin looked three shades lighter than normal.

"Do you mean to say...that that thing that killed the unicorn...that was drinking its blood...that was Voldemort?" Harry asked. The sound of Voldemort sent a shiver of fear down my spine. He really wasn't scared to say the name. Many people I grew up around weren't scared of saying it but they worked for him. I had my own reasons to fear him.

The Centaur spoke very seriously, freezing both of us in our spots, "Do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," Harry breathed in understanding. A deep bark echoed across the clearing, and the sound of urgent footsteps echoed in the dead night.

"Harry! Estelle!" Hermione cried out running toward us, with Ron, Draco, Fang, and Hagrid who gripped a loaded crossbow in his large hands. Draco's eyes met mine and he nodded shakily.

"Hello there, Firenze," Hagrid greeted our hero looking at us in worry, "I see you've met our young Mr. Potter and Mrs. Vaile. You all right there, Harry? Estelle? You look a bit grey there."

Harry and I both gave weak nods from our locations in the clearing. Firenze looked at us and nodded slightly. The shuffled of his hooves sounded louder in the stillness of the forest. In a deep voice, he addressed Harry, "Harry Potter, this is where I leave you. You're safe now. Good luck."

As he made his way past me he turned and frowned down at me, "I hope a shadow will be enough for what is to come. I fear it may not be."

Before I had a chance to wonder what he was talking about, Firenze was gone from the clearing and the others started to fuss over us. Harry and I were both clearly shaken up by the event. Hagrid decided it was best if we all just went to bed for the night.

On the way back, no one spoke. No one really knew what to say. We had no business trying to help Hagrid with such a dangerous task so young. Draco and I were in the back of the group. There was a small tug on the sleeve of my robe and when I turned to look at Draco, his eyebrows were pulled together tightly. It reminded me of when I fell and scraped my knee when we were learning to ride bikes. I just nodded, and satisfied with the confirmation of my safety, Draco ignored me until we separated toward our different common rooms.

Even the comforting scarlet tones of the common room and the sound of the crumbling fire wasn't enough to shake the feeling the slain unicorn forced onto me. The Hooded Figure was terrifying as well. I couldn't stop thinking about how angry and upset I was about the murder he so carelessly committed on the purest being alive. If Firenze was correct and that was Voldemort, I just met my parent's murderer. He took them from me. He took my life from me. Terror and fear consumed me in the form of shaky limbs and heavy breathing. Tears lingered in the corners of my eyes but the shock had settled in enough. All I do is cry. I wish I was as brave as Harry. He didn't seem even half as terrified as I was.

"You mean, You-Know-Who's out there, right now, in the forest?" Hermione gasped after Harry retold what happened to our two absent friends.

"But he's weak. He's living off the unicorns. Don't you see? We had it wrong. Snape doesn't want the stone for himself, he wants the stone for Voldemort. With the Elixir of Life, Voldemort will be strong again. He'll come back," Harry dropped the bomb. I ripped my ribbon from my hair, sending my long wavy hair around my face, and used my fingers to roughly run my fingers through it. Ron and Hermione both looked wide and terrified.

"But if he comes back, you don't think he'll try to kill you, do you?" Ron winced looking at Harry. The sound of Ron's voice was thick with concern over his best friend, and the looks on Hermione's face mirrored it. Growing up with Death Eaters, I knew that would only be the start if he came back.

"I think he would do a lot of terrible things," I whispered impulsively fiddling with my hair, "He's probably really mad he was defeated. He's been planning revenge since you were learning to talk."

Ron met my eyes and nodded. We both heard the stories about the war. They read about it but there was a difference in hearing the emotion in people's voices when they talked about it. Terror and anguish were found on both sides. Everyone lost someone they loved.

"I think if he'd had the chance, he might have tried to kill me tonight," Harry confessed. We seemed more terrified at Harry who just stared at us in frustration. It was a frustration that Voldemort could still come back and take more from people like Harry and I. It was anger. It was courage. I wish I was even half that brave.

"And to think, I've been worrying about my Potions final!" Ron breathed, lightening the mood considerably. I let out a small chuckle letting my hands fall in my lap where my ruby ribbon laid.

"Hang on a minute. We're forgetting one thing. Who's the one wizard Voldemort always feared?" Hermione prompted us to remember that not all was doomed. When we didn't respond to her attempt at positivity, she responded to her own prompt, "Dumbledore! As long as Dumbledore's around, you're safe. As long as Dumbledore's around, you can't be touched."


	10. Chapter Nine: Down The Trapdoor

The time leading up to exams was hard when we all were waiting for Voldemort to burst in and take his revenge at any moment. It was hard to focus on the hate of the school surrounding you and impending doom on the horizon. But we did our best. Hermione's notes and study schedule helped me more than anything. She was the champion of studying.

If we weren't in class, we were holed up in the library or in the common room memorizing study guides made by Hermione. Harry helped me with Defense Against The Dark Arts, and I helped him with potions and charms. Ron was great for moral support but often complained about the workload. Hermione was nearly driven mad by the time exams came around.

The heat of the summer made the testing rooms hard to focus on. As expected, the Transfiguration final gave me a nasty anxiety attack but all I could hope was to pass. It was the one I studied the hardest for and would no doubt do the worst on. Herbology was a breeze, and I didn't even study for it. It felt more like a fun game than anything else. Charms was similar, but I did review quite a bit with the others using flashcards and practicing in random courtyards. Astronomy and History was give and take. I really wasn't sure how I did on either of those but I wasn't expecting anything extraordinary. DADA would have been harder, if not for my friends but I think I might actually land somewhere in the middle of my year for that one. I was only caught on a few questions. Potions was stressful with Snape watching us, and knowing he was trying to bring back Voldemort. Even with my natural skill, I messed up a couple of parts. I should still make high marks in it unless Snape finds random things to take off points from. Should? Who am I kidding? Of course, he's going to take off points for stupid reasons. He's trying to kill my friend.

By the time we finished our last exam, we were all exhausted. Well, except for Hermione who almost seemed upset it was over, "I've always heard Hogwarts' end of the year exams were frightful, but I found that rather enjoyable."

"I feel like a zombie," I mumbled, wrinkling my nose at her. My fingers toying with the druid amulet.

"Speak for yourself!" Ron scoffed looking at Harry who was rubbing his scar with a grimace, "You alright there, Harry?"

"My scar," Harry winced as we walked across the courtyard, "It keeps burning."

"It's happened before," Hermione reminded him. It wasn't like he needed it with how frequently it had been bothering him lately. He was distracted so often during studying that it started to distract me from how he would mess with his scar.

"Not like this," Harry shook his head.

"Perhaps it's a warning," Ron suggested. None of us were sure why his scar would be hurting. It wasn't normal for scars to burn, but that wasn't a normal scar.

"I think it's a warning," Harry confessed, "It means danger's coming."

"Well, maybe that's the exhaustion speaking," I squeaked nervously, locking eyes with Ron.

Harry gasped as he looked across the field where Hagrid was playing a flute outside his hut. Ron, Hermione, and I had no choice but to run after the skinny boy that burst into a sprint toward Harry without explanation.

"Of course," Harry muttered. I looked at Harry whose face was tight with anger at himself.

"Slow down! You guys are too fast," I whined struggling to keep up with everyone with my short legs. My lips let puffs of breaths out from the unfamiliar act of running so randomly. As we neared the hut, and Hagrid's song grew louder Harry turned to us in urgency.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd that what Hagrid wants more than anything is a dragon, and a stranger shows up and just happens to have one? I mean, how many people wander around with dragon eggs in their pockets? Why didn't I see it before?" Harry asked. My eyes grew wider from the implication of his suggestion. As we approached Hagrid, I couldn't help but let out a small giggle at the sight at his feet. Bernard was laying in the sun next to Hagrid enjoying the pitchy melody from the wooden flute. He was nearly full-grown and very, very large. Next to Hagrid, however, he looked like a normal cat. Bernard chirped at me, and sluggishly stretched his long legs. The grey of my uniform socks quickly got a layer of cat fur as he rubbed against me affectionately. His front paws reached up to my waist to be picked up but I ignored him. That alone was enough to concern Hagrid. Hagrid stopped playing and stared at our sudden arrival. We normally showed up randomly but we didn't normally run.

Harry's urgency left no time for greeting and immediately asked Hagrid, "Hagrid, who gave you the dragon egg? What did he look like?"

"I don't know. I never saw his face. He kept his hood up," Hagrid was confused but responded to the question anyway. My teeth pulled my bottom lip between them and pressed down sharply. Bernard mewed irritatedly, and I only looked away from the large man to scoop up the needy cat.

"The stranger, though, you and he must have talked," Harry pressed further with the three of us behind him watching this unfold.

"Well, he wanted to know what sort of creatures I looked after. I told him. I said, "After Fluffy, a dragon's gonna be no problem," Hagrid shrugged, not understanding the point Harry was leading up to.

"And did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry's voice sounded more and more urgent with each question.

"Well, of course he was interested in Fluffy! How often do you come across a three headed dog, even if you're in the trade?" Hagrid scoffed, "But I told him. I said, "The trick with any beast is to know how to calm him. Take Fluffy, for example, just play him a bit of music and he falls straight to sleep."

At the sound of our gasps, Hagrid winced and shook his head, "I shouldn't have told you that."

The four of us turned quickly and started running back up the hill toward the castle leaving Hagrid behind without any explanation. Bernard lept from my arms and trotted after us until we reached the hill. Lazybones. The large man called after us from his spot, "Where are you going?! Wait!"

We all didn't pause once as we tore through the castle briskly. The adrenaline was pumping through me and this time I didn't struggle to keep up with my friends. Our feet barely even slowed down long enough to make corner turns. Robes billowed around us dramatically as we tore through the school. A Hufflepuff Prefect ordered us to slow down but we passed him so quickly I barely even heard what he said. Finally, we burst into McGonagall's classroom and raced down the aisle between the desks in the middle of the room toward her desk. The stern woman stared at us in surprise to have burst into her classroom in such a brutish manner but we didn't stop until we stood directly in front of her desk.

"We have to see Professor Dumbledore, immediately!" Harry nearly shouted from the panic pulsating in his body. McGonagall's eyebrows rose in surprise. Her eyes peered down at us from her small glasses resting on her lower nose.

"I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore is not here. He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left immediately for London," She shook her head in her ever stern and serious tone. We all sighed in despair but Harry pressed on.

"He's gone? Now? But this is important! It's about...the Philosopher's Stone," Harry explained urgently. McGonagall's face twisted into pure shock at the statement said to her.

The whites of her eyes popped out as she breathed, "How do you know-."

Harry cut her off, not feeling like we had time for the long story, and warned her, "Someone's going to try and steal it!"

Her eyes scanned the four of us with a wide range of emotions and shook her head, "I don't know how you four found out about the stone, but I can assure you it is perfectly well-protected. Now would you go back to your dormitories? Quietly."

After being kicked from our head of house's room, we walked down the outside hallway no longer seeing the point of running after being totally ignored. Our feet were heavy and shoulders pulled downward in defeat. Everyone who passed us was smiling wide from the completion of the final day of exams and the warm sunlight illuminating the grounds of the school. No one liked us enough to care about the fact we all looked like someone everyone knew was going to be killed in the next hour. Harry turned to us with an expression of frustration, "That was no stranger Hagrid met in the village. It was Snape, which means he knows how to get past Fluffy."

Hermione let out a tense sigh, "And with Dumbledore gone."

My heart froze when a familiar monotone voice drawled from behind us, "Good afternoon. Now, what would four young Gryffindors such as yourselves be doing inside on a day like this?"

"Uh...we were just...," Hermione stammered at the sudden appearance of the man trying to bring back the Dark Lord. I felt myself shrink in my spot when Snape peered down at me.

"You want to be careful. People will think you're...," Snape said, pausing to narrow his eyes at Harry specifically who was relentlessly glaring at him, "Up to something."

Snape stared at Harry's intense glare for a few seconds longer before sauntering off down the hall with his dark robes whipping around his ankles. As we watched him go further away, my chest erupted in nerves from the close call.

"Now what?" Hermione whispered panically.

"We go down the trap door," Harry fearless stated, "Tonight."

"Merlin help us," I swore quietly.

———————————————————————————————

After dinner, we sat in silence in the common room. No one talked to us, still furious about the points, but at least the full out bullying stopped. Bernard could sense my anxiety and rubbed his face against my cheek until I forced him to stop. I would bring him down the trapdoor with me because he's so good at following instructions but I didn't want to put him at risk too. Hey, maybe if I die down that trapdoor my family could finally be at peace. Harry simply watched the fire and waited for everyone to go to sleep. Hermione and I frantically looked through her notes hoping that we would remember something useful down there. Ron stared at a chessboard in front of him but was too lost in thought to ever move the pieces.

This is not how I expected to end this year when I got on the train in September. But then again, nothing went how I thought it would. I wonder how it would have played out if I was sorted into Slytherin. Peering at my friends waiting for the last couple of people to go to bed, I smiled warmly.

"Guys," I spoke up in a near whisper, "Whatever happens tonight I'm happy I'm a Gryffindor with you three. You're the best friends I've ever had."

"I am too," Hermione looked up from her notes with a smile. Harry nodded in agreement and Ron smiled. Around an hour later, the last student went to bed and we looked at each other nervously. Here we go. Harry went to grab the cloak, and the flute Hagrid got him for Christmas for Fluffy. He didn't realize that someone had followed him back down until we were about to walk out the portrait door hole. A frog dove in front of Harry's path with a loud croak. A small gasp of surprise fell from my lips.

"Trevor," I breathed knowing Neville was never too far away.

"Trevor shh! Go, you shouldn't be here!" Ron tried to shoo away the amphibian, who jumped right over to its owner who stood behind us clearly upset.

"Neither should you. You're sneaking out again, aren't you?" Neville frowned disappointed in us clearly from the expression covering his childish face. I shifted awkwardly in my Mary Jane shoes making my pleated green skirt brush against my tight covered thighs. A black turtleneck was tucked into the skirt with my wand holster at my hip. Hermione glanced at me with a determined shine in her eye.

"Now, Neville, listen. We were," Harry started to explain but a loudly upset Neville cut him off. If he kept this up, someone else was going to wake up and Snape would get the stone. I nervously looked back to the staircases hoping there would be no movement. Luckily, there wasn't.

"No! I won't let you!" Neville shook his head arguing loudly and raised his fists slightly, "You'll get Gryffindor in trouble again! I-I'll fight you."

"Oh, Neville," I frowned knowing this wasn't going to end well for him.

"Neville, I'm really, really sorry about this...," Hermione sighed quickly pointing her wand into his face, "Petrificus Totalus."

With a thud, the chubby boy fell to the ground in a frozen mass. My mouth dropped open a little at the quick and flawless execution. I glanced at the girl next to me slightly jealous of her talent.

"You're a little scary sometimes...you know that? Brilliant, but scary," Ron gulped thickly staring at the muggleborn witch who smiled proudly.

"Let's go," Harry beckoned us through the exit not wanting to waste any more time and stepped over Neville, "Sorry."

"Sorry," Hermione echoed as he stepped over him and went through the exit.

"Do you think...he'll be okay?" I winced at Ron who nodded uncertainly.

"Yeah," His voice cracked from the lie in his statement but stepped over the boy like the others, "It's for your own good, you know."

"Sorry, Neville. This is bigger than the house cup," I whispered leaving the common room quickly and joining the others under the cloak. We quickly made our way to the third floor and stood in front of the wooden door they told me about. Hermione used the unlock spell to grant us access to the room and we all quickly filed in. I pushed all my fear away and decided I couldn't be a coward when no one else seemed scared.

The room was small with only a tiny window letting in the moonlight. It was barren with only a large harp in the corner playing music. A light snore mixed with the sound from the mouths of the three heads of Fluffy, who slept peacefully. Occasionally the ear of one would twitch in its slumber.

"Wait a minute. He's...," Ron trailed off looking at the massive dog in surprise, "Sleeping."

"Snape's already been here. He's put a spell on the harp," Harry frowned angrily as we made our way up to the dog. The deep snores sent puffs of morning breath at the intensity of wind directly into our faces. If I hadn't taken care of a barn full of animals for most of my life, I might have been repulsed by the smell.

"Uh. It's got horrible breath!" Ron gagged. I guess I was lucky to not be sensitive to the smells of animals anymore. A large paw was covering a simple trap door in the center of the stone floor.

"We have to move it's paw," Harry ordered.

"What?" Ron complained sharply.

"C'mon," Harry fussed at Ron for the lazy attitude. We all crouched around the massive paw and used our collective strength to move the paw. My fingers felt warm against the rough fur of Fluffy. It was honestly cute while it slept to the sound of the peaceful harp. My heart squeezed at the cute sleeping dog.

"He's so cute," I whispered. I didn't have to look at their faces to know the looks they were sending me.

The door was uncovered and we started down at it with uncertainty. There was nothing to see but darkness down the hole below. Anything could be waiting down there. What kind of enchantments protected the stone?

Harry looked at us and ordered seriously, "I'll go first. Don't follow until I give you a sign. If something bad happens, get yourselves out."

I nodded in agreement before scrunching my face up, "Doesn't it seem quiet to you?"

"The harp. It stopped playing," Hermione frowned looking back at the still instrument. The sound of a splatter echoed in the silent chamber.

Ron gagged in disgust seeing a large smear of liquid on his shoulder, "Ew! Yuck! Ugh."

As we looked up, we saw three angry heads staring down at us with menacing yellow eyes. The anger of being woken from its peaceful slumber was radiating off it like a tornado. A bark rattled my eardrums and the three heads dove toward us with a growl. Not so cute!

"Jump!" Harry cried diving into the dark hole without hesitation. Hermione, then Ron, and then myself all followed after the brave boy and away from the gnashing of the three angry jaws trying to tear us to shreds. The landing was gentler then I braced for, and my body bounced upward slightly on impact. It was cold and slightly slimy against my tights. My eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness before I realized there were plants all around us. Or really one plant. Huge dark roots tangled and covered a small chamber. The familiarity of it teased the back of my brain.

"Whoa. Lucky this plant-thing is here, really," Ron whispered looking around us in wonder at the alien-looking plant overgrown in the chamber. There were no doors or windows. The only thing here was thick, dark roots. Suddenly the roots started to move toward us wrapping around our ankles, our arms, and eventually the rest of our bodies.

"Whoa!" Harry cried at the sight of the moving plant. Quickly we were all struggling against the roots tightening around us painfully. Like a flash of lighting, I gasped in realization.

"I know this plant! It's Devil's Snare. You have to relax or else it's going to kill you faster," I explained trying to calm down my own instinctual fight against the plant.

Ron sent an angry glare my way struggling the hardest, "Kill us faster? Oh, now I can relax!"

I didn't have a chance to respond as the ground below me sucked me into it gently. The plant rubbed against my body for a few minutes before dropping me down into a chamber below. I could still hear Ron screaming above when Hermione dropped down next to me staring up anxiously.

"I told them you were right but he wouldn't listen!" Hermione panicked as we started upward were the screams of Harry and Ron echoed.

"Hermione! Elle!" Harry cried out in concern with Ron echoing his terror.

Hermione cupped a hand around her mouth and shouted upward, "Just relax!"

"Hermione! Where are you? Is Estelle alright?" Harry's scream shouted back at us.

"I'm fine! Listen to what we are saying! You have to force yourself to relax!" I cried back desperately.

"Trust us!" Hermione ordered and soon Harry fell from the ceiling as well. Climbing to his feet, Harry stood next to us staring up where the sounds of Ron's screams only seemed to worsen by the second.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked Harry who nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," He confirmed. I stared at the plant above me. Sunlight will weaken it but what is the spell for sunlight! My brain wracked itself for any spell that could mimic sunlight. We learned this! I studied this for final exams.

"Help!" Ron's panic voice repeatedly shouted.

"He's not relaxing, is he?" Hermione panicked. My fingers found their way into my hair pulling slightly in hopes of remembering something.

"Apparently not." Harry shook his head, growing more and more panicked.

"We've got to do something!" Hermione hissed angrily. Stress was filling our small room like poison gas.

"What?" Harry blinked urgently open to any ideas. They turned to me and I sighed.

"Its weakness is sunlight but I can't think of the spell! It's our only shot!" I hissed slapping my head lightly, "I can't believe I can't remember this!"

"I know one!" Hermione nodded, ripping out her wand and pointing it upward, "Lumos Solem!"

With a sizzling hiss, the Devil's Snare fled from the light of Hermione's wand. Layer and layer of root slunk away until Ron crashed to the ground screaming and landed with a thud and a grunt. Ron laid in a slightly crumpled heap on the ground. Harry fell to his knees, "Ron! Are you okay?"

Ron nodded and they both rose to their feet. An embarrassed flush reddened Ron's cheeks and he looked upward where the plant used to be with a forced sigh of relief, "Whew. Lucky we didn't panic!"

Harry smacked him on the shoulder and looked at me, "Lucky Estelle knows Herbology."

"And Hermione knows so many spells," I added nodding at the taller girl.

The nerves rattling inside me slowly started to calm. Ron sent me an apologetic look but I just waved it off with a smile. The four of us stood in the empty chamber for a moment to catch our breath. The silence of the room was broken by the strange buzzing sound coming from beyond the doorway off to the side. My lips turned downward as I peered into the closed doorway.

"What is that?" Hermione asked as we all started the doorway emitting strange noises.

"I don't know. Sounds like wings," Harry frowned walking toward the door and opened it. The sound immediately amplified without the thick wooden door blocking it. Cautiously, we ventured into the next room through the dark, grey stone hallway which curved into ornate, gothic-looking arches. The light was leaking out of a well-lit chamber. As we entered it, my breath exhaled sharply in fascination. The high ceiling chamber was filled with twinkling winged creatures slowly fluttering around the openness of the roof. On the other side of the room was another thick, wooden door.

I squinted my eyes at the creatures, "I've never seen birds like these in any book I've ever read."

Harry let out a small gasp in front of me, "They're not birds, they're keys. And I'll bet one of them fits that door."

As we entered the center of the chamber, there was a simple broomstick suspended in the air ready to be mounted. I glanced at my friends. Do they understand what's going on? Frowning, I quickly walked across the open space and pulled at the door. It was locked. Hermione came up behind me and pointed her wand using the unlocking spell but it remained locked.

"We need the key," I confirmed disappointed. Either Snape didn't make it this far or it relocks after each person.

Hermione let out a cry of frustration, "Ugh! What're we going to do? There must be 1000 keys up there!"

Ron walked up beside me and peered at the lock, "We're looking for a big old fashioned one. Probably rusty like the handle."

"There! I see it!" Harry smiled pointing at one of the countless keys, "The one with the broken wing!"

Personally, I still couldn't make out which one he was talking about but I guess it was good we were working as a team. Do I need glasses? From my spot on the side, I saw Harry's lip pull downward as he stared at the broom.

"What's wrong, Harry?" I asked. He looked at me and shook his head, deepening his frown.

"It's too simple," He sighed.

"Oh, go on, Harry! If Snape can catch it on that old broomstick, you can! You're the youngest seeker in a century!" Ron encouraged him brightly and I smiled and nodded in agreement. I gave Harry a cheesy thumbs up. Harry nodded at us and reached out to the broom. It was like a hive of killer bees was dropped the moment Harry touched the handle. All the little keys sped up rapidly and started attacking Harry. It was a total swarm. Harry used his hand to bat away the tiny keys and mounted the broom quickly.

"This complicates things a bit!" Ron winced sharply as we watched Harry rise into the open space of the high ceiling trying to bat away the swarm unsuccessfully. The seeker chased after the key with the broken wing for a few seconds before calling out to us as he reached out to it.

"Catch the key!" He cried fully gripping the special key in his hand darting toward the three of us on the ground. Speeding by he threw it down directly into the hands of Hermione who ran to the door as quickly as possible. Hermione struggled to unlock the door and urgently wiggled it.

"Hurry up!" Ron screamed at Hermione from next to me. With a burst, we opened the door and ran through peering back at Harry flying away from the angry swarm just barely out of their reach.

"Come on, Harry!" I cried to the boy who raced toward the open door with hundreds of angry keys shooting after him. He flew through the door, with Hermione and Ron slamming it after him. The door shook from the impact of all the keys lodging themselves into the door of the suddenly closed door.

The sound of my heartbeat was still pounding in my head as we made our way into the next room. It was so dark it was hard to make out the large statues before us on a platform. Hermione let out a weak shutter, "I don't like this. I don't like this at all."

"Where are we? A graveyard?" Harry guessed going further toward the platform. As soon as Harry, who was leading us, stepped onto the platform, huge pillars of fire erupted illuminating the room in bright, warm light. The sight before us shocked us. It was a life-sized chess board with large white and black stone pieces. Eerily, none had faces.

"This is no graveyard," Ron sighed in wonder, "It's a chessboard!"

Spotting the door beyond the other side of pieces, Harry pointed, "There's the door."

"Let's go," I nodded, "This place is eerie."

We didn't make it to the door. The moment we approached the white pawns they unsheathed their stone swords blocking our path. My heart sank at the lack of at least one easy room.

"Now what do we do?" Hermione sighed looking at all the broken pieces of stone around us. Ron glanced around before this brow pulled together in determination.

"It's obvious, isn't it? We've got to play our way across the room," Ron nodded before looking back at the black empty pieces, "All right. Harry, you take the Bishop's square. Hermione, you'll be the Queen's side castle. Estelle, you can be Queen. As for me, I'll be a knight."

We all took our places in our respected squares shifting nervously peering at Ron, who stared at the bored thinking of a game plan. Maybe all those annoying chess games he made us play is actually paying off. My heart thundered in my chest as I started at the broken pieces of what used to be where I stood. I locked eyes with a scared looking Hermione. Her small voice echoed in the empty chamber, "What happens now?"

Ron, atop a black stone horse, thinned his lips, "Well, white moves first, and then...we play."

A pawn on the other side of the board slides forward making the sound of scraping echo around in the chamber. My breathing started to speed up knowing there was no chance of going back anymore. We were locked in.

"Ron, you don't suppose this is going to be like...real wizard's chess, do you?" Hermione asked in a terrified tone. My head snapped toward Ron, who frowned in uncertainty and made his first move, "You there! D-5!"

A black pawn moved forward to a square diagonal from the white pawn. The white pawn moved his swords upward and smashed it down onto the black pawn sending bits of stone across the board. Ron's voice echoed in its weakness in the silenced aftermath of the brutish attack, "Yes, Hermione, I think this is going to be exactly like wizard's chess!"

We all locked eyes in terror realizing the true stakes of what was to come. Ron had never looked more focused as he had as the game played out before us. Pieces were smashed, both white and black, with loud explosions sending bits of stone everywhere. There were moments when one of us nearly moved into a dangerous position but Ron was well played enough that nothing ever really became too close but it was a tight game played on his side. He couldn't just play however he wanted. We wouldn't be able to survive an attack that destroyed huge, stone statues in the blink of an eye. As the last pieces for both sides dwindled down, Ron's moves became even tenser.

"Wait a minute!" Harry cried out in realization. His sudden distress made me realize the situation we faced. If we wanted to win and stop Snape, Ron was going to have to get taken. My head swirled in a wave of lightheaded fear.

"You understand right, Harry. Once I make my move, the Queen will take me...," Ron frowned darkly nodding at Harry sternly, "Then you'll be free to check the King."

"No! Ron, no!" Harry refused. Hermione caught my eye and frowned out of the loop. As brilliant as she was, she never understood chess-like Ron and Harry did. Well, few people knew it as well as Ron.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"He's going to let himself get taken!" I cried out in horror.

"No, Ron! You can't. There must be another way!" Hermione shook her head vehemently. Bushy hair swung around her head and shoulders from the force put into the movement.

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?" Ron looked Hermione directly into the eyes before turning to Harry, "Harry, it's you that has to go on. I know it. Not me, not Hermione, not Estelle, you."

Harry nodded in reluctant understanding and Ron made the terrifying order, "Knight...to H-3."

"Check," Ron said, voice cracking slightly with fear as his horse slid into the proper square. The white queen slowly moved across the board directly toward the lanky, redhead boy. My mouth was covered by my hand watching the queen approach my friend waiting to be attacked without protest. I had to fight to keep my feet planted in place and my wand out of my hand. If I ruined his sacrifice, we wouldn't stop anyone. Ron's chest raised and fell rapidly in terror as the queen came to a stop and began to swing her large sword. With the sound of exploding stone, the queen destroyed the horse and sent Ron flying to the ground with a scream of pure fear. The sound was cut short as he hit the ground unconscious with stones landing around him.

"Ron!" Harry cried out but pointed at Hermione who moved toward the boy urgently, "NO! Don't move! Don't forget, we're still playing."

Hermione's entire body froze. She gave a small nod of understanding looking at Ron's broken looking body laying on the ground still. Harry took a deep breath and walked across the board toward the white king piece. Stopping in front of it, Harry loudly called out, "Checkmate."

The large sword in the king piece's hand fell to the ground with a great clatter. We all stood frozen for second worrying there was another step to this challenge. When nothing else happened, we all bolted directly toward Ron. The boy laid still and pale against the checkered marble floor. Hermione was at a loss of what to do. I quickly reached over and found his pulse giving a sigh of relief. I nodded to the others, "He's unconscious. He needs to get to a healer. He could be seriously hurt. What are we going to do?"

"One of us needs to take care of Ron. Then, go to the owlery. Send a message to Dumbledore. Ron's right," Harry sighed, "I have to go on."

"Hermione, you go with him," I decided to look at the curly hair girl, "You're stronger than me. He'll need your brain against Snape."

"But what about you?" Hermione blinked in concern, "How are you going to get out on your own?"

"I'll be fine," I nodded in encouragement pushing away my fear, "Harry shouldn't go alone and Ron needs help. Go. Before it's too late!"

"Don't forget!" Harry rose to his feet with Hermione, who still looked unsure, and ordered with determination, "Send a letter to Dumbledore as quickly as possible."

"Good luck," I smiled at my friends, "If anyone can do this, it's the two of you."

They gave me a nod and quickly went through the next door. Suddenly, I was sitting in the graveyard of broken chess pieces all alone. My nerves flared up nervously as I tried to figure out a plan. Ron moaned lightly in his sleep. My body sprung to its feet and I pointed my wand at the boy, "Wingardium Leviosa."


	11. Chapter Ten: End of The First Year

Three days I had spent in the bright sunlight of the hospital wing nervously watching Harry's chest rise and fall hoping that his next breath would come with the opening of his eyes. In the end, much to my disbelief, everything ended up okay. Hermione joined me not long after I carefully crept and levitated Ron past the Key's still angrily twitching from before. There were a riddle and a potion in the next room but there was only enough potion left for one person to go forward. My nerves worried about Harry facing Snape alone but it felt soothing to have Hermione help me with the pale-faced Ron. We never even made it to the owlery, because Dumbledore had burst through the floor of Devil's Snare. He looked furious and moved quickly on after we quickly told him the situation but not before sending a beautiful, blue phoenix made of magical light upward into the ceiling. As we deliberated on how to get through the wall of plants, McGonagall appeared, slightly flustered, and helped us bring Ron to the hospital wing. He woke within a few hours and Madam Pomfrey fixed him up in a flash.

Soon we learned about what really happened. It was Quirrell, not Snape that tried to steal the stone. Harry fought it off long enough for Dumbledore to rescue him but nearly burnt out every drop of his energy doing so. The stone was destroyed and soon everyone knew about what happened with Quirrell. Each day the huge stack of candy grew at the foot of Harry's bed, clearly forgiven for losing so many points, and many people came up to Ron, Hermione, and I hoping for details, which we kept tight-lipped. Except for Ron, who really enjoyed some of the attention at first.

The candy was sometimes the only meal we ate while we waited by Harry's bed. He wouldn't mind if we had some anyway. Well, I'm pretty sure. Madam Pomfrey eventually had to shoo us out each day as to not interfere with Harry's healing.

"I don't see how us sitting there does anything bad," Ron muttered grumpily snacking on some candy from Harry's growing stash. Hermione and I agreed silently as we aimlessly wandered the halls. It was good to finally be able to walk around without getting glares. I'd even managed to avoid Draco and Co for the past three days.

"Estelle," A quiet voice appeared from beside me, "Can I have a word?"

Looking up, I frowned at the sight of Jareth shifting his weight around slightly. Hermione and Ron looked at me uncertainly but with a deep sigh, I nodded letting them walk off a little bit away. Jareth cleared his throat as I stared up at him frowning. We hadn't spoken since he called me an idiot for losing the points. Admittedly, we were idiots for forgetting the cloak.

"Heard about what you and your friends did," Jareth's eyes darted around the wall, "Looks like my tutoring paid off."

"Looking to get some credit?" I scoffed crossing my arms, "Are you really that obsessed with yourself?"

"Well, yes," He smirked before running his eyes over me and pausing at a red scuff on my forehead from a flying piece of rock from the chess game, "No, I'm not looking for credit. Are you..okay? I wish you would have come to me for help. I could have helped your friends. You're lucky no one got seriously hurt."

"Well, we hadn't talked since you called me an idiot," I reminded him. His eyes shifted down toward our feet before letting out a deep sigh.

"I was just angry I was going to have to spend another summer listening to my brothers brag about Slytherin's winning streak," Jareth explained before his attention landed back on my scuff, "How did that happen? Are you feeling alright?"

"Exploding chess piece. Are you just asking because the school cares about Harry and what we did that night?"

"No, no. I just...see myself in you a bit. This is so cliche and gross but I know how it felt to lose your family when you end up in the wrong house. It's so stupid that it can destroy your home. I wanted you to feel like there was still someone looking out for you," Jareth shrugged, turning red with embarrassment and stiff from the discomfort of confession, his emotions as a 'cool' teenage boy, "Like a brother or whatever. Plus, it doesn't hurt to have a friend who's dragged along to those events too."

"Oh," I blinked in surprise at the painfully uncomfortable Ravenclaw in front of me, "Thank you. Want to be friends again?"

Instantly, Jareth covered the sweet, sensitive exposure of himself with his normal cheek, "I'll have to see if a spot opens up. Send an application in and I'll get back to you."

"Jareth," I sighed, exhausted from the past few days. Jareth let out a cheeky laugh and waved dismissively.

"Only joking," He rolled his eyes.

Seeing as the story had already spread, Jareth and his friends gathered around me in the Clock Tower courtyard as I gave them the basic rundown of the story. Liza interjected often with stoic faced questions about the dangerous things we faced. It was probably the most we ever talked about. She didn't apologize about pushing me but she didn't really seem the type. I doubt she even regretted it. Hermione flew up to the group nearly floating off the ground when she alerted me that Harry was awake.

Ron, Hermione, and I relentlessly tried to get into the hospital wing guarded by the unrelenting Madam Pomfrey. It took nearly two hours for her to let us in for five minutes. We moved so fast across the wing that we must have looked like we were flying. I launched my body at Harry and pulled him into a tight hug. Relief and happiness overwhelmed me seeing my friend conscious after three concerning days. He laughed as I squeezed tight only letting go so the others could have their turn. Our cheeks were all raised from the huge smiles curving from one ear to the other. Madam Pomfrey made a noise of disapproval. Quickly we sat beside his bed so as to not ruin the reluctant visit.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to- Dumbledore was so worried-," Hermione stammered out her worries until Ron cut her off excitedly.

"The whole school's talking about it!" Ron told Harry, "What really happened?"

Then Harry told us all the details of what happened once he continued on his own. The mirror, the stone, Quirrell, Voldemort, and everything in-between. Nothing was left out from Harry's account of the events. We barely had time to tell him about Gryffindor's loss to Ravenclaw before Pomfrey shooed us out again saying we would see him before the End of Year Feast.

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My face lit up when Harry rounded the corner from the direction of the infirmary looking healthier than the last time I saw him. All of our scuffs and scratches were mostly gone by now. After all hugging happily, we entered the emerald decorated Great Hall as a full group once more. The sight of the overwhelming green banners made the sweet pumpkin juice taste sour in my mouth. But everyone was excited to see Harry, knowing the events that happened, backup and healthy. The entire hall erupted in loud chatter the moment he walked in. Quickly we slipped into open seats at the Gryffindor table. I sat between Ron and Pavarti across from Hermione and Harry. We all wore our black, pointy dress caps for the occasion, with my red ribbon sticking out the back of mine.

The food appeared on the table and I realized this was my first Hogwarts feast I actually ate at. I was too upset and shocked to enjoy the welcome feast, and the bathroom troll ruined the Halloween Feast. After the taste of the food graced my mouth, I realized just how much I'd been missing out all these months. Dinner, breakfast, and lunch were already good enough but the quality of the food was at a different level. The smell was nearly enough to give me a second stomach. As we ate, Harry filled in the people around us about what happened but due to his obvious discomfort, the topic was soon changed to a play by play of the quidditch match against Ravenclaw he missed. Neville and I eventually started discussing our fears about our exam results, with Hermione butting in to boast about her own score but to also encourage us about our results.

The light tapping of a utensil dinging against Dumbledore's cup rang out and quickly silenced the hall. Everyone's attention was fully trained on the bearded wizard. He smiled softly down at his students and addressed us, "Another year gone and now, as I understand it, the house cup needs awarding, and the points stand thus."

"Gryffindor with 262 points," He listed starting with the weakest house. My group buried our heads in shame. Guilt gnawed at me as I felt eyes on me. The Stone stopped the hatred but it was still our fault Slytherin was going to win for the 8th time in a row.

"Third place, Hufflepuff, with 352 points," Dumbledore nodded to the yellow house who happily clapped before looking at the Ravenclaw table, "In second place, Ravenclaw, with 426 points."

"And in first place, with 472 points, Slytherin House," Dumbledore announced sending the emerald clad students roaring with cheers, while the rest of the school looked on dejectedly. Draco looked so smug and happy. Pansy and Daphne hugged each other with excitement. Imagining how it would have felt to see their faces if I won something for once. They always win and this time it was my own fault. I let out a deep sigh and stared at the natural lines in the wooden table.

"Yes, yes, well done Slytherin, well done Slytherin," Dumbledore nodded to the excited table but raised his hands to make his next statement, "However, recent events must be taken into account. And I have a few last minute points to award."

I met Ron's eyes from beside me who mirrored my own confused and hopeful expression. Dumbledore smiled at the Gryffindor table and nodded at Hermione, "To Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool intellect when others were in great peril, 50 points."

My hands slammed together to clap for my best friend who blushed as the entire school clapped for her. Ron and I both cheered loudly making her smile bashfully. Dumbledore continued on and looked at Ron, "Second, to Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best played game of chess that Hogwarts has seen these many years...50 points."

I grabbed Ron's shoulders and squealed excitedly. We were catching up to Slytherin. Next, I caught Dumbledore's eye and felt my whole body get hot from the attention I was getting from the people around me, "Third, to Miss Estelle Vaile, for an impressive familiarity with the natural world and applying it when good friends were in great distress. 50 points."

I felt my entire face warm uncontrollably as the people around me cheering and Ron wrapped an arm around my shoulders tightly cheering loudly. Peering up at the faculty table, I caught Hagrid smiling down at me proudly. Sprout was clapping nearby gleefully for her favorite student. Dumbledore's voice silenced the claps directed at me, thankfully, and peered at Harry proudly, "And third, to Mr. Harry Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house 60 points."

The cheers broke out wildly across the hall, saving Slytherin as we were now tied for first with the Slytherins who looked around in horrified disbelief. Hermione squealed in excitement, "We're tied with Slytherin!"

"And finally," Dumbledore silenced the room who listened in tense silence, "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends. I award 10 points to Neville Longbottom."

Neville stared at the hall cheering for him in shock. He'd never earned a single house point and he was the sore reason Gryffindor was able to break the time. He looked like he was struggling to believe what was happening as reality and not a wonderful dream. Dumbledore smiled at the excitement across Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor and stated, "Assuming that my calculations are correct, I believe that a change of direction is in order. Gryffindor wins the House Cup!"

All the banners that were once green turned to red in a gust of magic, and The Gryffindors all cheered loud enough that the ground shook slightly from the excitement. McGonagall's face was brightened by a rare smile beaming with pride at her house. I was nearly too happy to look at the Slytherin table, which was silent and still staring at our table in anger. I caught Daphne's eye who glared coldly and turned around sharply. Draco glared at me angrily but a cheering Pavarti pulled my attention back to our table of joyful cheers. How could a year start so lonely and cold but end so full of friends and joy?

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The next day we all loaded our things onto the train while Hagrid herded students into the train to make sure no one was left behind. Bernard was darting between his legs giving him a happy goodbye until September. Hagrid might be his favorite person beyond even me some days. I hope animals love me as much as Hagrid one day. With a chirp, Bernard's large body trotted over to me as we walked up to Harry. Hermione and I stayed up late talking about the year as we packed our trucks after the feast. Lavender and Pavarti joined us from their own beds, sharing candy and stories. It was like a slumber party. Ron and Harry both met us for breakfast. Only Harry and I were unhappy about getting a break to go back home. Hogwarts was a happier place for both of us. A place where we don't feel like unwanted mistakes. But after everything I'd been through with my three best friends, I couldn't bring myself to care about Uncle Jasper's reaction to me writing them.

Now on the platform, I couldn't help but feel a growing pit of sadness in my stomach as we walked up to say goodbye to Hagrid. The large man smiled down at us proudly pausing in his ushering of students into the train. We each gave him a hug and wished him a happy summer before piling into the doorway of the compartment. Waving at Hagrid as we entered, Harry paused to stare at the castle before entering.

"C'mon, Harry," Hermione waved our friend in but he gave a bittersweet smile and looked back at Hogwarts and Hagrid.

"One minute," He sighed walking over to Hagrid. The man took a scarlet book out of his pocket. Normal pockets wouldn't have been able to store a full-sized scrapbook but Hagrid had no issues. The two had a quiet conversation before hugging tightly. Harry started to return back to the doorway as Hagrid called out to him, "Oh, listen, Harry, if that dolt of a cousin of yours, Dudley, gives you any grief, you could always, um, threaten him with a nice pair of ears to go with that tail of his."

Harry blinked confused, "But Hagrid, we're not allowed to do magic away from Hogwarts. You know that."

Smirking cheekily, Hagrid raised his eyebrows at us, "I do. But your cousin doesn't, do he? Eh?"

Harry finally made his way over to the doorway, and we all looked at the castle one last time feeling like totally different people than when we arrived, "Feels strange to be going home, doesn't it?"

"I'm not going home. Not really," Harry shook his head with a smile. I nodded in agreement. The whistle of the train rang out across the platform forcing us to finally enter the train which lurched with a movement toward Platform 9 3/4. My heart sank as I watched Hagrid waving us off knowing it would be months before I could come back again. But now, I was going to have to survive for two months with my family.


	12. Chapter Eleven: The Return Home

Uncle Jasper didn't even allow me to say goodbye to my friends before bringing me back to Greengrass Estate with an overly tight hand digging into my shoulders. The last thing I saw was Hermione's concerned stare as I disappeared. If he let his nails grow longer, I'm sure they would have broken my pale skin turning red in his tight grasp. Daphne was relentlessly glaring at me when we landed in the familiar, overly grand entrance hall for being the cause of such a gruff, and abrupt departure from the platform. All of the Slytherins had been sending my friends and I heated glares since the feast. Her mouth opened to speak but her father cut her off sharply, "Daphne, go check on your sister. You do not need to be here for this."

Her icy annoyance broke at the seething rage in her father's tone and glanced at me in slight worry before scurrying quickly up the grand white stairs. A few times she glanced behind her to look at my ghostly white face, and her father's tightly tensed jaw. When his daughter was out of view, Jasper moved his hand from my shoulder to nearly crushing my small wrist in his adult, manly hands. My feet stumbled to keep up with the brutish way he was pulling me toward the direction of his office. Tiny squeaks echoed in the empty mansion when my rubber soles skidded on the polished marble floor. Hot tears filled my eyes from the intensity of his grip but fear locked my voice from asking him to stop. It felt like it was about to break under the pressure.

A loud bang echoed down the hall as he threw open the door roughly making it slam against the wall ratting the paintings hanging. A portrait of a deceased Greengrass Wizard grumbled at us but Jasper silenced it with the wave of his wand. I was roughly thrown down into the seat facing his desk and watched his body slightly quivering from rage as he stood with his back to me looking out over the perfectly manicured gardens. His voice was shaking with the barely controlled anger when he turned and hissed at my quivering body in the armchair, "What...did...I...tell...you...before...you...returned...to...Hogwarts?"

Air seemed just out of the reach of my lungs and I gasped overrun with anxiety to the point of dizziness, "To stay out of trouble."

"And, did you?" He responded without waiting for me to replay he shouted, "No! You completely disregarded everything I asked of you. As always with you, I hardly know where to start. Should we start with the fact you and your gang decided to stop something that could bring back someone brave enough to fight for a purer magical world? Did you think about the damage your meddling would wreck onto such a rotting society struggling to heal from Dumbledore's putrid influence? And Daphne tells me you were seen having private meetings with the man and now you're one of that senile oaf's favorite pets! You must have not uttered a single protest to the disgusting last minute cheating of the house cup from that lunatic! Have you no shame? I believed I raised a girl who respected herself. You associate with the lowest breeds of wizard and manage to humiliate yourself, and this family by losing fifty points alone in a single night to play a stupid prank on Draco Malfoy. Because of you, he had to risk his safety in the Forbidden Forest! After all the Malfoy family has done for blood traitor spawn like you! You bring dishonor to your bloodline. The mere sight of you crying like an innocent victim in that seat makes my blood boil. Do you have any explanation for this wild behavior?"

"I didn't mean to get into trouble or insult you, Uncle Jasper! I just-," I bubbled out in a pleading tone but Jasper cut me off with a fierce glare.

"You lost the right to call me Uncle when you threw my love right back in my face. If you weren't the last Vaile, you would be on the streets! I even believed you could restore the once-great house of Vaile to the state it was before your father and grandfather destroyed it!" He seethed leaning against the desk with his arms, nearly growling at me, "Do you enjoy making my legacy nothing more than a joke? Is this fun for you? I'm starting to think you find joy in making yourself impossible to love."

"Impossible to love?" My lip quivered wet from the thick snot dripping from my nose and the tears streaming down my face. Shutters ran through my body in violent waves. Blood traitor spawn? Impossible to love?

"You know exactly what you're doing, young lady." He rolled his eyes hotly, "It even shows in the friends you degrade yourself with. A Weasley? The Potter Brat? And worst of all, that muggleborn? Do you even care that little Astoria lays in her bed upstairs with a failing heart rejecting all treatments given to her because she has the curse of a jealous, barbaric muggleborn witch that cursed the family so long ago? Do you have no loyalty?"

"Astoria's body is failing?" I gasped remembering the last time this happened when she was only six and barely was able to recover, "Not all muggleborns are like that though! Hermione is a great person. She wouldn't ever do that."

"How dare you speak to me like you are more knowledgeable than I?" He sneered before flicking his narrowed eyes at the door, "I can't stand to look at you a moment longer. Get out."

"I-," I stuttered frozen before shakily rising, "I'm so sorry."

"I'm not inclined to believe someone like you," he scoffed before nearly spitting at me, "You should know. I sold all the animals in your barn. It was draining the vault with its daily keepers and the filthy germs worsened Astoria's condition."

"What? But I raised them! I didn't even get to say goodbye," I swayed on my feet, feeling pain explode in my chest as I shook with a wave of violent sobbing. They were my entire world at Greengrass Manor for so many years. They were probably so scared when the strangers came and took them away. It was all my fault. I promised to give them a good and happy life.

"Go to your room. You are not to leave it until I allow you to leave. I placed a charm on the door and I will know if you try to leave," He ordered pointing at his door, "You are lucky I am allowing you to keep that feral cat of yours."

☾☾☾☾

Days passed as I waited for my Uncle to allow me to leave the room I grew up in. All the jewelry given to me by him from the Greengrass vault had been removed from the vanity. He even took the items that my mother once wore. They weren't keen on sharing their many luxuries with me anymore. Any form of entertainment had been stripped from my bedroom from art supplies to the radio to my books and notes. My desk looked so empty. All I had were thoughts that consumed me. Bernard and occasional food delivery from Poppi were the only social interaction I had locked away in the room. Bernard pawed at the door for the first day hoping to go play with his sister but quickly realized the situation we were in. The smart, part-kneazle cat tried his best to keep me cheerful but each passing day drained me more and more with so many negative thoughts left to fester in my head without any distractions.

At first, I really believed I tried my best to balance these two worlds but then the nights crept their way into my heart each evening and darkened it. I should have been better about thinking about how every single one of my actions could hurt the Greengrass family. I was reckless when I was at Hogwarts. Blinded by impulsive friends and the guise of doing good. It was pathetic that I thought and tried to convince my family they were the top priority when I was more focused on myself and my new friends. No wonder they stopped loving me when I messed up every chance I had to be good. It was my fault I was impossible to love. I hadn't stopped hurting them since I stupidly got sorted into Gryffindor and blamed them for feeling betrayed. Those people in my house manipulated me away from what really mattered with the allure of friendship and care without conditions. All love had to have conditions, right? To prove you were good enough to be loved? And I wasn't.

But maybe my family was wrong for putting so much restriction on their love for me? Maybe I could never have hoped to be more than a stain they were burdened with when my parents were murdered. I couldn't remember a point in my life when I didn't feel like I needed to grovel and beg for approval and acceptance. I can't remember a time I ever truly felt like I was enough for them. My new school friends always stood by me and cared when I wasn't doing well. There was a hand outstretched to help while all I got at home was disapproving and disappointing stares shaming me into the shape they wanted. No one asked what I wanted or liked but told me what I needed to be and how I needed to do it.

Seven days passed isolated in the room with the woodland mural painted along the walls in faded paint. My brain twisted and morphed into a jumbled mess of tears and empty staring at the wall. The walls suffocated me and drove me to the brink of insanity. It was hard to remember how happy and strong I felt just seven days ago when I left Hogwarts. I felt like someone turned me into a ghost that no one could see or remember and all I could do was scream silent pleads at the world to see me.

My heart throbbed at the sight of the abandoned barn off to the side. I wondered where they were sold. I feared my Uncle cared so little he gave them to fur traders. My fox had a beautiful coat that could fetch a high dollar. It was all my fault they may be in a dark, scary cadge wondering why I did this to them. Wondering if my effort for their trust was just some big trick. I felt like a monster had taken control of my body while I slept and drained each of their bodies dry in a cold, detached manner before tossing their bodies into a ditch to rot. They were just more things that were ripped away from me that I was too small and powerless to stop. I could only hope they were lucky enough to have been bought by loving owners. How could a grounded twelve year old do anything about getting them back? I didn't even have an owl.

The nights were the toughest. I couldn't see the grounds and gardens in the darkness of the twilight sky. There was nothing left to distract me from my feelings. I could only lay there at the mercy of the things that overwhelmed my heart and brain. There was no way to turn my brain off. With each day that passed, a small part of me broke off until I felt entirely numb to everything. I didn't bother getting out of bed to eat more than a few bites of each meal, if any, and watched the shadows grow and shrink on the walls as the sun passed overhead until the room was once again plunged into darkness.

The door slowly swung open jolting me out of my daze on the eighth day. A thick fog was preventing my brain from functioning normally anymore. I gasped at my tall Uncle's figure standing in the doorway staring at my greasy hair and dirty nightclothes in disappointment. The clear disgust at my lack of unkempt appearance made my eyes too heavy to look into his face and warmth raised to my face. Fear of his scolding ignited the sharpest pain I've felt in days as he stared into the room in silence.

"Follow me," He commanded, waiting for me to walk to the door and ventured down the halls and stairs. 

My foggy brain struggled to guess where he was leading me. The rapid reintroduction to the world outside my room was overstimulating. Suddenly, we stopped in front of the large wooden door of the Portrait room across from the Grand Library. Inside the babbling of hundreds of Greengrass portraits were muffled by the thick door. Jasper ventured in first and quickly silenced the portraits with their matching ornate silver frames, who all looked most offended at the action. 

Leading me over to the large magical tapestry, my lips quivered anxiously. It was extremely ancient, with the once vibrant blues and silver fading from time and sunlight against the French style white walls soaked in bright sunlight from the large windows along one wall. Many branches were stretching across the entire length of the wall as it recorded the family line all the way back to the late 13th century. Uncle Jasper gently guided me to the end of the tapestry with recent dates and familiar names embroidered with hands pressing on my shoulders lightly. I didn't dare to speak but had to bite my lip to keep from exposing my emotions when I saw the familiar poorly burned spots of my mother and father, Cordelia Lyra Greengrass-Vaile (1956-1980) married to Calin Brownwyn Vaile (1955-1980), with a thin branch leading to my branch. Without thinking to stop myself I inhaled sharply at the fact it had not been blasted off yet and remained untouched. Estelle Cordelia Vaile (1980-) was unburnt and still included the proper members of the family. I didn't dare to move. Did he bring me in here to make me watch him blast it off the tree?

"Do you have any idea why I brought you in here today?" Uncle Jasper's voice was soft and without the seething anger from before. I shifted wishing he would take his hands off my shoulders and shook my head.

"No, sir," I denied trying to sound as polite and respectful as possible. I braced myself for the smell of burning fabric in a few moments.

"To show you that you still are a part of this family. You are just a child. You have time to turn these countless mistakes around and salvage some level of respect in our community. The tainted blood in our magical community has gotten far out of control since the fall of the Dark Lord. We are no longer in a position to turn our nose up at one of our own that comes from two respected, and ancient bloodlines for school-girl mistakes. But tell me, what happened to your parent's embroidery?" He said in a chillingly calm voice. My throat bobbed as I swallowed a thick tightness in my neck. The warmth of his unblemished hands was distracting. All I wanted was to shove them off my body but my meekness refused to even entertain such a bold move.

"They are...," I trailed off tightly, "Burned." 

"Yes, my father did that when Cordelia refused to comply with the Dark Lord's requests. He died shortly after that and never had the chance to destroy your likeness on the tapestry. If he was still head of Greengrass you would have grown up in an orphanage far, far from here. Your mother was closest to me out of everyone in our family but your father turned her against us. I would hate to go through that pain again with you after I invested so much into raising you as my own. Fate gave you a second chance to rise above your parent's failures. Are you going to throw it away and end up like your parents, or be the well-behaved girl I raised you to be?" Jasper asked, frowning down at me with a deep intensity I found it hard to meet his eyes. Glancing back and forth from the Tapestry to my uncle, I tried to steady my pounding heartbeat. His grip tightened.

"I want to be good," I finally spoke despite the deep uncertainty plaguing me. What did that even mean? I've changed so much and learned so many conflicting things since leaving the bubble of Greengrass life. My Uncle nodded, giving me a warm, but clearly forced smile, and let my shoulders go finally. I wanted to move away from him but my feet were frozen in place.

"Clean up and then visit Astoria," He commanded, "Her condition is worsening and she needs the unquestionable love and support of her family. You wouldn't want to cause her any stress in her fragile condition, would you?"

"No, sir. Of course not," I denied frantically horrified he would even suggest I would wish harm on an innocent little girl. He made his way to the door but turned to look at me with a calculating glint in his eye.

"See what these muggleborns bring into our lives? Innocent little girls have the healthy childhood they deserve taken away because of the jealous rage of that riff-raff," He smirked before disappearing from the doorframe. Hermione would never do a thing like that, and neither would Andrew Nickles. Both muggleborns wouldn't harm a single hair on an innocent child no matter the circumstances. Maybe my Uncle's time was different and things are starting to change for the better. Maybe I'm just naive but I just couldn't believe Hermione would ever do such a thing.

I cleaned and bathed in a foggy haze running through the motions robotically. I had barely eaten in eight days and the hot water of the bath made my headlight and full of white noise. Black spots entered my vision a few times but they all passed pretty quickly. I didn't rush through my bath, as I lacked the drive and energy to do so, and fiddled with the amulet around my neck that my father gave me. I had to be extremely careful to hide it from my cousins and uncle. They wouldn't heisitate to take the only thing I have from my father away. Dumbledore said he was a great man but everyone else paints him as a selfish monster who destroyed my mother. Are both a little true or just one lie entirely? How much of who we are is defined by the opinions of others? I guess in death opinions are everything since you can't defend your name. Unless you're a ghost. It hurt my head to try and argue all these conflicting opinions and influences in my exhausted brain

It was only when the water in the tub lost all traces of warmth and chilled me that I was motivated enough to gather the energy to dress. Standing up darkened my vision for a few seconds but passed like any other day. I felt like a robot as I brushed out the tangles from my long, dark hair. My reflection looked ghostly from the way the black strands clung to my white skin and the purple veins under my pink eyes. I simply threw my hair into a basic braid not having the energy to apply the hair potion to my thick locks or tie it up in a ribbon like usual. The chilly air of the Estate was abrasive against my damp skin hurrying me to dry and slip into a white, floral sundress with a lace neckline. Uncle Jasper said we looked like fairies in our sundresses running around the pastel estate. Daphne said her mother used to wear dresses like this when she was young. Their mother grew up on a smaller magical estate in Sweden. She would only know that from pictures. Uncle Jasper rarely talked about her. When he did talk about his late wife his voice would get tight and sentences would have long pauses. But her picture was everywhere he habitually roamed lingering like the invisible ghost of Greengrass Estate.

My body practically floated to Astoria's bedroom in my exhausted daze enhanced by the days of mindless isolation. When I entered the room, the normally sunny windows were covered with thick, heavy drapes preventing any light from seeping into the room. The only light was a dim nightstand light charmed to never burn out unless you tap it twice. The toys that normally were spewed about the floor, despite how regularly Poppi cleaned it, were all tucked away in chests. A tiny lump was nestled in the middle of plush duvets and throw blankets. On top of the lump was the fully grown sister of Bernard, Ginger, cleaning herself delicately. Cat eyes narrowed on my approaching figure before recognizing who I was and returned to cleaning herself.

"Daphne?" Astoria's voice called out weakly, not seeing me due to a post of her bed frame blocking my figure, "I thought you went to Pansy's for the rest of the day."

"It's Estelle," I croaked knowing the scratchiness of my voice was from days of silence, "Do you feel up for a visit?"

"Estelle!" Astoria's pale and thin body excitedly leaned up from where she was supported by a mound of feather pillows and Ginger sprung up to fuss over her weak owner, "Father's kept you in your room for days. What did you do? No one will tell me!"

"Um," I winced coming to the empty chair at her bedside for visitors and relaxing into it with my tired muscles, "I let down the family again. I thought I was doing the right thing but I guess I wasn't."

"What happened?" She asked and something in me just let everything out to the sickly little girl. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers at the words of the baby dragon, to befriending non-pureblood children, to solving my dreams crisis to the Philosopher's Stone. Words of my adventures poured out of me, finally able to tell someone in my family about the year I've had. Bernard joined his sister, and warily let her clean him. She hung onto every word like I was reading her a fiction book before bed. Curious excitement made her eyes glow from their sunken in position dressed with dark bags. Her skin was grey, thin, and clammy looking. I can't remember a time I've ever seen her look so rough.

"So that's why Father locked you up? But it must have been so exciting to go on an adventure like that. I hope I get to go to Hogwarts," Astoria frowned in confusion, "I understand why he's mad at you for making friends with dirty blood and seeking help from that old fart but why does he care if You-Know-Who fails to come back? He isn't a Death Eater, right? They all went to prison before I was born and he doesn't have the tattoo. He can't be. They're criminals."

"I don't know. Everything's gotten so complicated since I started Hogwarts," I sighed before locking eyes with the little girl seriously, "You have to swear never to mention anything I just told you or else he might lock me up again. Please."

"Don't worry," She smiled showing off a missing front tooth, "You know how good I am at secrets!"

"You are pretty good with secrets," I agreed knowing she was a very lock and key kind of person but my nerves still were making my stomach flip in worry. I guess I was just going to have to trust the girl.

"I'm sorry about the barn," Astoria quietly said to me, "I tried to stop him. I miss them."

"Don't be sorry. It's all my fault. Who bought them? Did he tell you?" I asked fearfully. She nodded her head and tried to remember the details looking off to the side for a moment.

"Some Korean pureblood for his personal zoo," She nodded, making me give a deep sigh of relief, "They all stayed together. It wasn't just your fault, Stell. He was going to get rid of them anyway. He's just trying to make you feel bad."

"Wait, why?" I frowned. For days, I destroyed myself thinking I betrayed the trust of my animals when it wasn't even entirely my fault. Why didn't my Uncle tell me of this?

"Father is about to quit his job. We have to go to America for a while," Astoria sighed leaning back into the mountain of pillows behind her dejectedly. She was wearing a lace nightgown in a thin, white fabric that made her look like a little doll. But dolls don't look so wilted and grey.

"But Uncle Jasper loves his job! No one quits the department of mysteries! It's unheard of for an unspeakable to leave their position," I cried out knowing the deep pride he has at his position of an Unspeakable and knowing full well the complications of quitting that job, "Why America?"

"Me," Astoria's lip quivered slightly before she shook her head in stern refusal to cry, "None of the normal treatments are working. But there's a healer in America who has been inventing an experimental cure for magical beings with blood maledictions. Maybe it will make me strong enough to go to Hogwarts in a year like you and Daphne. It's all I've ever wanted. I wanna learn all the stuff my father does. And, make my paintings move."

"Experimental?" I swallowed thickly. 

"Father said it's risky but it was my call. I just want to be better. I'm tired of being sick," Astoria shrugged off the heavy conversation like we were talking about the comic strip for the Daily Prophet's Kid's Corner section. They must be getting desperate. Every hospital visit was so much strife and energy for what always seemed to be a quick fix. With only a year left until Astoria goes to Hogwarts I bet she's getting more and more frustrated that she has such a crippling illness.

I wasn't sure what to say. We share the same blood, but she's the only one between us that ended up with the blood curse. It was always the elephant in the room when she was really sick. The conflicting feelings of concern, guilt, and relief were still hard for me to understand in any way. Biting my lip, I finally responded, "Are you scared?"

She stiffened against the pillows sharply looking away to her cat, who looked ready to get help at any sign of distress from her owner. The tiny limbs of her body twitched and shifted like I just slid a bunch of rocks into her mattress. A stiff smile spread across her face, "I was hoping we would be staying with the American Greengrasses. They never come to the reunions. Apparently, they aren't pureblood anymore. Father says I'll be at the hospital for the most part and he already rented a really fancy hotel room. I wonder if the magic is different there. Like those funny accents! I wish you and Daphne could come too. Daphne's always wanted to go to New York. But she seems pretty excited to stay with Pansy."

"Do you know where I'm going to be?" I asked. Astoria shook her head with a yawn clearly trying to keep her eyes open. Maybe my uncle would let me decide. Hermione always said I could stay with her and I know Ron's family would let me stay at their place. Wow, can you imagine? A whole summer with George Weasley... I'm sure he would rather drop dead than send me to stay with a Gryffindor classmate but I couldn't crush the little hope sprouting in my stomach that entertained the idea of spending a summer with friends. Wait, no! Making friends with them only got me into trouble with Jasper. But...It would be the best summer I've ever had.

"Astoria, do you want to rest now?" I asked, eyeing her lulling head, "It's okay if you're tired."

"Please stay with me," She mumbled and slipped into a dream state before I had to respond. Whatever potions she's been put on must cause extreme drowsiness. 

The sudden silence was uncomfortable but I didn't move. As I stared at the sickly girl, I couldn't help but cry. The Greengrass features she was blessed with shrove from the savageness of the blood malediction. Like my mother, she was born a medium brunette Greengrass but nearly everything was similar to her older sister's features. The brown, straight hair made the dark veins stand out more against her clammy, pale skin. It was dull and thin-looking in the dim candlelight. The Greengrass' slimness was taken to the extreme, as a side effect of her illness. It was impossible to not see the beautiful, healthy girl Astoria could have been.

It was terrifying to face the possibilities a witch or wizard can achieve by exploring the most twisted dark arts. A muggleborn witch cursed the Greengrass bloodline centuries ago and it's destruction still rages on. Astoria couldn't even talk yet when Uncle Jasper was given the horrible news that one of his daughters got the cursed genes. I wonder if Uncle Jasper's wife died before she found out her little baby would die before she had her own. Astoria's life was brutally clear with facts from an early age. Every day would just be another day closer to early death and every doctor's visit was just delaying the completion of the curse. She understood why she had to stay in uncomfortable hospital beds and endure long stints of bed rest while Daphne and I were allowed to have fun.

This was the summer from an alternate reality where everything was the opposite. Everything was wrong. Normally, summer was the best season of the year. The cold, rainy winter was melted to bring about a sunny, and warm summer. The weather agreed with Astoria the most and rarely had doctor visits. Daphne, Astoria, and I shared sweet days twirling around in white lace frock dresses. Mud and grass stains from our adventures never lingered due to Poppi. Even Daphne couldn't resist enjoying the beautiful weather outside. The airy forest echoed with the light giggles and footsteps as we dashed around. On the hottest days, we would go to the little natural pool and pretend to be mermaids. Some days were spent lounging under the shady trees near the main building listening to the wireless wizarding radio flipping through magazines or books. Through the tree branches, we would watch the clouds float across the sky with fruit juice dripping from our mouths. We loved to dance in the forest like the wild witches from stories. If there was rain, we could always stay in and play hide and seek.

Even in the warmth of summer, it was difficult for Astoria to keep up. She was a fragile girl of glass. The brittle bones of her body would snap with just the lightest fall. She would be lucky if she made it the full seven years at Hogwarts. Every breath was counted and she was cursed with a limited supply. All I could do for her is to watch her sleep and guard her against nightmares. 

☾☾☾☾

-June 30th-

Three days passed, but they were filled to the brim with change and feeling. The stress of returning home had already noticeably made me thinner. I barely ate while I was locked in my bedroom and once I was let out I could never track down my appetite. The first night I was allowed to leave my room I slept in the barn that had never once been so silent. The hay in the stalls was mildewing without anything there to eat it. It smelled terrible and it felt damp against my skin but I couldn't bring myself to return to my room. The summer heat beat down against the empty building shining golden sunlight through the dusty windows onto cobwebs. Only the family owl named Baron, Daphne's owl named Eira, and the spiders hiding in the cracks of the building were left. I couldn't help but think about how my own father would probably never do this to me.

After two nights in the barn, I returned to my room surprised to find all of the books, art supplies, radio, and other things put back into their places. Bernard even had a new cat tower in the corner of the room. I'd seen a similar one in Astoria's room but Ginger never left Astoria's side. Bernard, on the other hand, was obsessed with it. My school books and books on Merlin had been returned tucked neatly away in my trunk the way the Hogwarts house-elves packed it. Between The Druidic Blood of Merlin by W.R. Welpin, and The Legacy of Merlin by Areon Vaile it seemed like Welpin wrote a more factual book compared to my ancestor who seemed to drown the basic facts about Merlin out with bragging about The Vaile Line. He wasn't discussing things I would brag about at school to my friends. It was blazé with supremacy despite Merlin creating The Order of Merlin in hopes of creating peace between the non magical world and our own. He would be ashamed of his descendants. The huge tomb was a nice companion while keeping Astoria company.

The amount of time Astoria would need to stay in America was hard to plan for and the stress of planning for something so open-ended pressed in on all of us tensely. The riskiness of the experimental treatment was the elephant in the room. There was a chance Astoria would be coming home in a tiny casket. Leading up their departure on the fourth of July, Uncle Jasper strictly forced Daphne to stay homebound. Rather than stomping her foot and giving her father an icy glare like she always did when he told her what to do, she just agreed with a stiff nod. Daphne was scared, and she was trying everything not to show it. It was too uncomfortable for her to open up like that but over the years you learn the silent ways she expresses her feelings. She arranged a new travel set filled with anything Astoria could need for the trip. Countless, shiny new things that must have cost a pretty coin and the priceless, worn things that would bring some essence of home to her hospital room. Every piece of clothing was tested to see how easy it was to get into. Even without the gifts, Daphne made sure Astoria's long, brown hair was always braided out of her face and the sweat was cleaned from her face.

The three of us would sit in Astoria's room every moment possible. If the curse hadn't drained her too badly that day, Astoria and I would fill the room with the normal excitable chatter of young girls. Occasionally Daphne's cold voice would cut in to make a comment from behind a Witch Weekly, or the purple covered, French romance novel she was reading. Normally she wouldn't be caught dead reading something so emotional but you let the people who witnessed you grow up see you do things other people will never see. Other times, we just sat in silence, both comfortable and uncomfortable, and busied with books, sketch pads, or embroidery.

The sounds of the magical radio were the only sounds in that lofty, high ceilinged room. Sometimes thinking of something to say to break the suffocating silence was impossible. The captivity of being a young girl tasted nauseatingly sweet and soft because of the way the smell of our sweat from the summer heat combined due to the way we packed ourselves around the bed like sardines. It was alarmingly feminine the way we sat quietly in our white linen frocks embossed with soft lace, and delicate whitework embroidery waiting for someone to pull our strings. Shameful even. It was how we were raised after all. Three pureblood debutantes with perfectly folded hands and bare legs crossed at the ankles.

Stress and fear reigned with an iron grip over Greengrass Estate as the last days of June faded away into July. Normally we would be spending days prancing around the forest, sneaking out to stargaze, and racing bicycles around the massive garden. Uncle Jasper, who rarely seemed out of control, was clearly losing his grip on it all. Daphne whispered to me, away from the naive ears of her little sister, that she had seen him quietly crying with a firm grasp on a glass of Fire Whiskey unaware that his eldest had snuck from her bed. I couldn't tell if she was looking to me for comfort or if she needed to say the words aloud to believe them.

The day Uncle Jasper quit his job as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries you couldn't take two steps in the massive estate without bumping into a ministry official. Stern faced witches and wizards swarmed the massive home to make sure Uncle Jasper wasn't trying to steal any classified files from the department dealing with the most top-secret information in the Wizarding World. Every inch of our home was crawling with black-robed pests. He had already sworn an unbreakable vow and signed a magical contract in his blood. If he even whispered of the things related to his old job, his body would hit the floor as a corpse before he would finish the sentence. But everyone knew this. It was why so few Unspeakables ever left their position.

But still, everything was held together by a thin string, until it snapped when Astoria's chest started to heave with wet coughs. A small dribble of red leaked from the corner of her mouth. A healer was fluttering around Astoria's bed, while my Uncle rubbed his face trying to get all his thoughts in the right spots. Daphne and I stood in the corner, terrified when a plump pink robed lady from the ministry came into the room looking cross. The room was filled with chaos as he tried to simultaneously explain the old family tombs in the library dealing with dark magic was simply for research purposes, understand the needs of his sick daughter, and keep an eye on the two of us in the corner. It was hard to pick a single thing to look at. Daphne was finally done with her role as a perfectly pruned lily. Turning to the plump, stiff-looking lady, she took a step forward child-sized but paralyzingly unamused.

"Do you not see that my little sister is sick? Your old eyes must be a lot worse than those wrinkles. I suggest you remember your manners and excuse yourself," She snarled without holding back even a little in the face of her elders. White areas on the woman's face tripled as her eyes widened from the words a little girl just mouthed off at her. The skin Daphne made fun of turned red as shock turned to disrespected anger. The hinges of my jaw hung open lightly from my spot behind her. Uncle Jasper's entire expression tightened from his daughter's display of disrespect.

"Daphne Aurinda Greengrass! You apologize this instant. You forget your place." Uncle Jasper's eyes flashed coldly at his eldest but she was her father's daughter. Her own eyes were even more frozen than his. Eyes locked in their mutual rage leaving everyone else to stand awkwardly in the silence. Daphne would not be apologizing.

"You two." Uncle Jasper pointed at us and then pointed at the open door, "Will be spending the rest of the day outside where you can't get in the way."

Daphne barely let him finish before she was, with her nose tilted up to the point I was worried she couldn't see where she was going, exiting the room with an almost mockingly perfect air of refinement. The skirt of her summer dress brushed against her bare legs as she sped through the sunlight corridors. The only time she slowed her pace was to give herself a pleased smirk while passing a silver framed mirror. I trailed behind her, not uttering a peep like there was a tail between my legs. The shame and guilt she refused had latched onto me. I wonder what it is like to feel like a blizzard.

When we made it outside into the front of the sprawling gardens alive with the summer plants and twittering of songbirds Daphne's cool expression melted with a frustrated huff and started to make her way to a small grove of trees far from the eyes of ministry employees. We hadn't been alone like this since I did her hair for the Christmas Eve Ball. If she hadn't ordered me to follow her, I would have gone to a different section of the garden. When we reached the grove of trees, Daphne kicked off her shoes toward the trunk of one of the trees letting the grass tickle her feet. I followed her example and sighed contently. The shadowy branches of the trees cast a cool temperature onto the thick grass.

"That woman was a troll," She sneered at the house. Her light hair was dusted gold from the summer sunlight leaking through the overhead leaves. Everything was golden in the summer at Greengrass Manor. With a sigh, she lowered herself onto one of the two wooden swings hanging from a thick branch. Memories from summer days of girls trying to turn into birds inspired by the way the wind felt in their hair flashed behind my eyes. We had been inspired by the stories of witches who could turn into birds at whim. Cliodna was my favorite, who could turn into a sea bird and was aided by three magical birds of healing. Recently I learned she was the daughter of the last high priest of the druids and the mother of Merlin. Interestingly, the witch I favored ended up being part of my supposed bloodline while Daphne favored Morgana Le Fay, the witch who despised Merlin.

There were only two swings and three of us. Someone would always be there to push the others higher and higher until they looked like golden doves flying through the air in light-toned dresses. It was normally me who pushed. Daphne would rarely take a turn pushing and Astoria was simply too weak.

Coming to sit next to my cousin who felt more like an older sister, my lips pulled at the twitching of her stoic mask. Her beautiful face was twisted with anger when she turned to look at me beside her, "I can't believe him. Father shouldn't have let her shout like that around Astoria."

"He said someone got arrested last week during one of those raids, remember? Maybe he was scared," I suggested using my toes to push off the ground lightly. My body swung but never lifted or soared. My feet would have to kick off hard to do that. Daphne's nose tilted upward again at the suggestion.

"I don't care. She had no manners. What a troll," She sneered again. Silence fell between us. We hadn't talked like family in nearly a year. Under the swings, there was a thin patch of grass sprouting where it used to never get the chance. It was like the dirt realized how much had changed and desperately took the first chance it had for growth. The silence was unknown in this grove of trees. It was one of our favorite places to play during the summer. I couldn't stand it.

"Did you see her face after you said that?" I, slightly forcefully, laughed before doing an over the top impersonation of it. Daphne gave me a side-eye but actually let a small smile slip. I could still make her laugh.

"Worse than a troll," She smirked, pleased letting her hands wrap around the worn ropes of the swing, "She was probably ugly even when she was still young."

"Not everyone can be Daphne Greengrass," I responded softly. I wasn't pretty and I am young. My baby fat was hollowing out but I wasn't sure if that was just because I wasn't eating much anymore. My lips were still too big and made me look like I had cotton balls stored between my teeth and lips. The nose in the middle of my face was still swollen with the excessive baby fat. My baby fat heavy face looked ridiculous on my thin body, like a muggle bobblehead. Even next to the prettiest girl in our year, this felt like the first time I could breathe since the train.

"Hm," She hummed. Her tone was pleased and her gaze softened silently peering around the small, shaded grove. Birds were chirping overhead and the rustle of leaves pointed to active squirrels. Dragonflies and bees floated by like twirling ballerinas. It was dreamy and hazy. It felt like how summer used to. We were just missing Astoria.

"We used to spend so much time here. It was so nice," Daphne sighed, pointedly looking at the drape drawn window of Astoria's on the second floor. We were thinking the same thing.

"It has probably been a lot more peaceful out here without us running around," I breathed the crisp air in deeply. The stale air inside seemed like poison compared to this.

"Tori loves the summer," Daphne said weakly. The weakness of her voice alarmed me enough that my hair created a black wave when I snapped my head toward her. I couldn't remember the last time I heard that voice. She was the strong one. Always perfectly put together. Sometimes it felt like she was even more unshakable than Uncle Jasper. I couldn't see her face because her hair created a golden wall between us. I could only see the whiteness of her knuckles clutching the rope of the swing.

"I'm scared," My voice was thick when I finally responded. I couldn't think of anything comforting to say. I couldn't tell her it was going to be fine when I was scared too. Daphne had seen me cry more than anyone else in the world. I didn't feel the need to stop a tear from spilling down my cheek. When she didn't respond I looked at her again. Her shoulders were shaking. She was...crying.

Without a word or second thought, my body launched out of my swing making it sway chaotically. At first, she was frozen and shaking slightly from her tears when I wrapped my arms around her. Slowly her warm arms wrapped around me weakly. The swing beside us had stilled by the time we pulled apart with wet cheeks and glassy, pink eyes. Daphne, clearly uncomfortable with the exposure of her emotions, was destroying any evidence of her tears while I stared at her from my spot on the grassy ground. I didn't care about dirt or grass stains on my dress but I never did. Poppi would deal with it.

"Astoria is strong," Daphne, noticeably shakily and forced, said, "She'll be home before we go back to Hogwarts."

"You think so?" I frowned. My fingers weaved through the thick grass slowly.

"I won't tell her you doubted her," Daphne mused with a small twitch of her eyebrow, "If you never tell anyone I cried."

"I wouldn't do that anyway," I rolled my eyes at the suggestion. The sight of Daphne crying just confirmed how disheartening the summer has been. It was unsettling.

"We don't have the same friends anymore anyway," My cousin reminded me without hesitation or gentleness, "It would be hard to embarrass me without embarrassing yourself more."

"Clearly," I hissed in a deadpan. Did she think I was an idiot? Or care about the way the brute comment made me flinch. Her blue-green eyes narrowed down at me scanning me softly.

"I can't believe you stole Slytherin's win," She laughed, making my eyes widen in alarm at the genuine mirth in it, "You! The little blood traitor we all made fun of finally showed us up at something."

"You...aren't mad?" I asked treading delicately into the sore subject. Daphne's glare at the feast was near as piercing as when I was sorted away from her. I know she was trying just as hard to earn points as the rest of her house. Her laugh slowly died off, and she went back to staring at the dark window on the second floor.

"Furious," She corrected but sent me a devious smirk before her next sentence, "But Draco's tantrum after was worth losing. Merlin's beard, it was spectacular! He's gotten even more...Draco-y since we got to Hogwarts. Thinks he's all that because he's a Malfoy. Greengrasses have always been more graceful Father says. "

"Yeah, I noticed," I winced thinking of all the people he's made cry with only a fifth of effort. Each month he got more and more seamless at making the other students shrink. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone in the school hated him already. The boy I grew up with was totally gone now. I missed him. He used to be sweet.

"So, You, Granger, Potter, and Weasley really stopped You-Know-Who from coming back? Like everyone's saying?" Daphne asked, "That's why Dumbledore gave you the points, right? Something about nature."

"Yeah," I nodded uncomfortably unaware of her stance on Voldemort, "He was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone but challenges were protecting it. I just knew how to get past Devil's Snare. Nearly killed Ron."

"Weasley is an idiot. Hardly a surprise," She rolled her eyes coldly uncaring about his fate, "Looks like being a dirty, garden worm finally paid off. Maybe Gryffindor makes sense after all."

I just shrugged. The discomfort was silencing me. Daphne either didn't notice or didn't care and spoke again, "It's a good thing you stopped him. That would have been...irritating to deal with on top of everything else. I've hardly had time to pick out my wardrobe for next year."

The selfish reasoning was alarming but that was just Daphne. She's family. Us finally getting along was inspiring enough to push past the discomfort of her privilege. Uncle Jasper didn't let us back in until dusk was nearly over. The day away from the suffocating atmosphere, acting like the children we were, was exactly what we both needed. Our cheeks were both sore from smiling the day away. It felt like before. If only Astoria was there too.

☾☾☾☾

-July 3rd-

Tomorrow afternoon, Uncle Jasper and Astoria would travel to America. Everyone had packed their bags. Astoria and Uncle Jasper were prepared for America. Daphne was overpacked for a summer with her best friends. And I was underprepared for my summer. Mostly because I didn't know where I was being sent. The craziness must have distracted Uncle Jasper from arranging something for me. Or maybe he assumed I could do it myself.

After Dinner, which Astoria never joined anymore, Uncle Jasper broke the news to me in a curt but firm announcement while Daphne was still in the room. His voice was deep and it echoed in the nearly empty room with walls made of mirrors, "The Malfoy Family are being extremely generous by watching you while we are away. I expect only good things said about your behavior there."

The room was silent for a few moments. My mouth was opening and closing in terrified shock. Part of me had assumed he'd forgotten and I could slip away to Hermione's house. In all reality my best chance was to sneak to Ron's since it was connected to the Floo Network. Plus, my entire body went firey hot at the thought of spending the summer with George Weasley. But clearly, that was a fool's wish to day dream about spending the summer with one of my best friends and his cute older brother laughing and joking around in the summer heat. There was not a single brain cell that could think of something to respond to such a jarring statement. Daphne, however, knew exactly what to say, "The Malfoy Family...wants to watch...her? This has to be a joke."

"Narcissa is Estelle's godmother, Daphne," Jasper frowned at his daughter like she must have a brain injury to not understand. Her wide eyes met mine in horror. For very different reasons.

"Ha. As if that matters anymore. She's a Gryffindor!" She crossed her arms with a cool eye roll, "Shouldn't she go stay with one of her freaky friends before she does something else to embarrass us?"

Forcing down the hurt from her freely dispensed insult, I piggybacked on the fuss my cousin was kicking up, "They wouldn't mind. If you let me use Barron, I could make a plan tonight."

"Estelle! Your mother would be horrified at the ungrateful brat you have become. You should only be expressing gratitude that an honorable family like Lucius' is willing to house you," His eyes narrowed before sliding to his daughter, "Daphne, your mouth was amusing as a little girl but you're a young lady now. I expect you to behave as such. I think staying with The Malfoys will teach Estelle some valuable lessons that she clearly needs."

"Please," I stuttered feeling my lungs begin to pound uncontrollably, "Don't make me go. Draco hates me."

"Maybe Draco Malfoy will be able to knock you off your high hippogriff. Dumbledore and Potter brainwashed you into this year. It's extremely unattractive. Now, my word is final. If I hear another word from either of you girls, there will be consequences. Do you understand?" He stressed every word sternly, without even a slight pause at the fat tears collecting in my eyes. After receiving a nod of agreement from each of us, he waved a hand of dismissal, "You are both dismissed. Make sure everything is packed up before you go to bed. I don't want you girls relying on Poppi for the things you forget. It is unbecoming to be airheaded."

"Yes, sir," We coursed, leaving the room quickly. As we made our way up the stairs toward our separate bedrooms, Daphne looked over her shoulder with a blank frown.

"Draco is either going to have a great or terrible summer with you around," She paused on the entrance to a second-floor corridor a little ways away from her door with an unreadable expression on her face, "Either way, I'd watch your back. If he doesn't torment you, Pansy will do it for him. Remember the last time she found out you were staying with Draco for the summer?"

Before I responded, she walked away letting the moonlight streaming in from the large windows flash over her as she passed them. The lightness of her long hair looked like a ghost gliding down the hall. Her reminder and warning were haunting enough. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck in a thick trail. It felt ice cold against my skin. Everything was too much. The walls felt like they were closing in as I climbed to the third floor. I was fully hyperventilating by the time I found myself in my room.

My attempt at distraction by packing more expensive-looking dresses the Malfoy's would expect from a pureblood heir only made my anxiety attack increase. The folding of the dresses became more and more frantic. None of the dresses seemed good enough to mask me as one of them. Ms. Narcissa had picked out half the dresses for me but what if that just reminded her of my infamous betrayal? Then I took out anything Gryffindor branded from the trunk. I felt like I was going to be sick. My body fell to the ground near the trunk letting the coolness of the ground overstimulate my skin.

Everything was too much. Astoria was going away. My uncle barely tolerated me. Draco and his family were going to watch me like a hawk for a single sign of failure or disgrace. My insecurities plagued me. Not only my family terrified me, but the thought of my friends finding out was harrowing. There was not a single person they hated more than Draco Malfoy. He'd never shown them that hidden part of himself that was redeemable. Maybe the sorting hat killed it. God, Ron, and Hermione would be furious. Harry would look so horrified. Hours passed and the stillness of night did nothing to distract me from all the possibilities of this summer. Each one grew more wild and horrifying than the last. The coolness of my father's silver necklace felt like the only thing grounding me.

The past few hours had made my paranoia and terror breed a wild idea as I stared at my fireplace. I could tell Ron myself. I could tell him that it wasn't my choice. I could make sure he didn't think I betrayed him. My animals never got an explanation but maybe I could give Ron one. I wish Hermione's house was connected to the floo. I need her so much right now. I knew my fireplace was connected to the floo in case of emergencies but the fear of Uncle Jasper realizing was just as terrifying as Ron learning about my summer housing from someone else.

The time didn't occur to me when I finally pulled myself off the ground snotty and sweaty. My eyes flashed around the room frantically. What if the lack of use makes my fireplace do something wrong? Merlin, what did Ron call his house? It made me laugh.

"Poppi," My voice was shaky but within seconds white, saucer eyes stared up at me too eager to please. Seeing my tears, she quickly came to fuss over me.

"Poppi help! Poppi help!" The elf panicked waving her arms around trying to think of a way to get me to stop crying so hard.

"Floo powder. I need floo powder. But my Uncle can't know," I instructed her. Her ears moved from the rapid shaking of her head.

"Trouble! Master will be furious with Poppy. No secrets! He said to Poppi," She whimpered but I just shook my head. A snot stream leaked into my open mouth. It was salty and disgusting but my panic barely noticed it enough to clear it away.

"Please. I'm begging," I pleaded with the elf, and only made her shocked eyes grow wider. Pulling at her ears roughly, she squirmed around the area for a moment before nodding to me weakly.

"Only for Stelli! Master can't know," She blubbered before leaving the room with a tiny pop. My body was too overpopulated emotionally to welcome the guilt of pressing the innocent house elf. She would get a much more ruthless punishment if Uncle Jasper found out. The house-elf returned with a small bowl of dust. Her eyes darted around the room as she passed it to me. It was like she was expecting Jasper to come from the shadows to punish her for failing this test.

"Poppi worries. Stelli be careful," She nodded terrified and disappeared before I had the chance to offer my own anxiety attack powered words of comfort. I hadn't ever done anything this blatantly against my Uncle's wishes before. On purpose. But I had to do it. I couldn't have my friends hanging by a thread too.

I walked up to the fireplace. My mind was too overwhelmed to remember the name of the family home. The lapse in memory only made me cry harder. By the time I remembered, I looked completely insane and was too far gone to realize the time. With as much pronunciation as my quivering lips could handle, I threw down the powder, "The Burrow!" 


	13. Chapter Twelve: Impulses

-July 3rd-

With a flash of green light and the tug of magic against my skin, I landed roughly in a dusty fireplace unevenly distributing my weight on my thin flats. My forehead met a woven carpet before I had a chance to brace myself with my hands. The burn of the carpet sliding against my skin made me give a wet cry. Large hands suddenly appeared on my shoulder and helped me up. It took a second for the spinning in my head to clear enough for me to see with my already watery eyes leaking juicy tears down my cheeks. A thin man with a fading hairline of bright red hair stared down at me, slightly horrified, and helped me stand to my feet.

"I'm sorry for showing up like this. So impolite. I need to see Ron. Ron Weasley? He's here, right?" I stammered out frantically barely legible but the man clearly had experience listening to distressed children and understood perfectly, "He said anytime! Anytime! Please, sir. I need to see Ron."

"Molly," The man called out slowly in a panicked way and confirmed he was, in fact, Arthur Weasley, "Come here. Quickly."

A tired-looking red-haired woman appeared around the corner drying her hands with a tattered hand towel, "Arthur, if I don't get these dishes done tonight-."

The sight of a small, quivering little girl covered in soot froze her mid-step. Desperation pushed me forward, "I need to see Ron. Please, Ma'am."

Her shocked expression melted when her eyes fully took in my state. The snotty nose, tears, hyperventilating chest, and soot-covered white dress softened her eyes as she quickly made her way to me. Reflexively I backed away from the quick-paced mother, "I'm sorry I-I shouldn't have barged in. I just- Ron. I need to tell Ron something."

"You must be Estelle, right?" She smiled warmly with extreme gentleness like she was talking to a spooked horse, "I'm afraid Ron's asleep. It's very late, Dear."

"I'm sorry!" I wailed with a shutter of tears making Mr. Weasley's body tense from stress, "This is so rude. Ron said- Ron said I could come. He said anytime. I need to tell him something."

Molly simply placed her hands on my shoulders, leaning down to my level slightly, and smiled, "You are quite alright. How about Mr. Weasley goes and makes you a hot tea to calm you down? It always helped my son, Charlie, when he was your age. I think you might be having a panic attack, darling. Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

Before I burst into another wave of tears, Mr. Weasley was grateful for the excuse and sped to complete the task his wife gave him. Molly's arms shook from where they connected to my body on my shoulders. Her eyes softened and simply pulled me into a tight hug. Blubbering, I repeated over and over again that I needed to see Ron until the warmth of her hug chased away the cold sweats and fear. Her arms were so warm. I couldn't compare it to anything I've ever felt. No one ever hugged me like this. Is this how my mother would have hugged me growing up?

When my tears lessened and Arthur returned with a steaming cup of tea, Molly pulled away and steered me over to a lumpy, well-loved sofa. The hot tea was placed in my hands, trembling slightly, and the sofa dipped from her weight sitting beside me. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to communicate something silently and he left the room to give us a little privacy. I took a sip of the tea, which forced me to calm my breathing down long enough to take a sip. With a small pat on the knee, Mrs. Weasley nodded at me, "Warm cup of tea always helps."

"I'm sorry. This isn't ladylike," I mumbled watching how the light brown tea swirled around in the chipped teacup before looking up at her unable to stop a quiver of my lip, "Please don't tell my Uncle. I'm in so much trouble already. I just need to tell Ron something."

"This can be our little secret," Molly smiled gently pressing the issue, "Why don't you tell me and I can tell Ron when he wakes up? You can sleep in Ginny's room tonight. It's very late."

"No-," I shook my head horrified, "No. I have to go home before my Uncle notices. He'll burn me off! But Ron needs to hear it from me!"

"Hear what from who?" Came a grumbled, half yawned voice from the doorway where a rickety staircase laid. It was from Fred. His bright red hair was all over the place, and there was a patch of dried spit on his cheek. With a groan, he roughly used his fingers to remove the sleep from his eyes. Peering into the room with narrow eyes, they immediately widened at the sight of me.

"Merlin's beard!" He swore, "Estelle?"

"Go right back to bed, young man! This is none of your business," Molly's face tinged red like her hair at her son's sudden appearance, "You should be asleep."

"Mum, I just needed a drink of water," He frowned at her with a shrug but walked into the room quickly looking at me, "What's up with Estelle?"

"My uncle!" My mouth vomited up words without thinking as I stood up from the sofa, "My cousin's bad. Really sick. They have to go to America. He's making me stay with Malfoy. I have to make sure Ron knows this wasn't my choice. I don't want to go."

"Malfoy?" Fred's eyes widened, "Bloody hell! No one is going to think you want to spend your summer with that prat!"

"Lower your voice before you wake the house, or so help me," Molly stood glaring at her son who didn't seem to care about that.

"I don't want him to think I betrayed him. He has to tell Hermione and Harry," I started to cry again, "You have to tell Ron. My Uncle is going to notice I'm gone soon!"

"I've far passed simply noticing your absence," A sudden voice cut through the chaotic room. None of us noticed the near-silent sound of the fireplace roar until Uncle Jasper's lethally calm tone announced himself. He looked out of place with his fine jewelry and finely tailored navy robes. His mouth curled as he took in the homey atmosphere around him. Mr. Weasley, hearing the new voice, bounded into the room with a tight glare. They knew each other from work. The tension was tight in the room, and I barely noticed Molly's hand slide onto my shoulder. She pulled me into her side ever so slightly.

"Arthur," Jasper greeted without a shred of friendliness or remorse, "So sorry to intrude. It seems my niece has no sense of boundaries or respect. Please forgive her for being so unladylike."

"You can't send Estelle to Malfoy's house! She'll be toast by term! They'll kill her!" Fred bellowed glaring at my Uncle. Jasper just cocked an eyebrow at Fred, but otherwise was unaffected from his frosty rage. Fear overflowed from my stomach into the rest of my body at the spark of rage in Jasper's eyes that was nearly undetectable. 

"Fred!" I hissed desperately shaking my head, "Stop. Please."

"Son, bed. Now," Arthur frowned at his son. Fred shook his head angrily but after a fierce glare from his father, he started to exit the room. He could tell this was too serious to argue. We shared a tense look, and the red-haired twin nodded at me meaningfully. He would tell Ron.

Before he was able to leave, Jasper's cold tone became sharper, "Arthur, it seems your children need a lesson in proper etiquette. Shameless disrespect. Besides, that boy is lucky he is a child, otherwise harmful slander like that might land him in an expensive lawsuit and it doesn't...appear your salary is that flexible, is it? I'll have you know that Estelle will be more than safe in the care of her godmother. She did help raise her after all."

Jasper used the shock of his statement, not caring that Fred was glaring at him from the stairs, and roughly grabbed my shoulder. His teeth shined down at me roughly pulled me away from Molly's protection with a tiny snarl. Pulling me into his side, he grumbled at me, "And you. Just wait till we get home."

"Estelle is more than welcome to stay with us," Molly piped up for the first time treading lightly under the sharp glare of my uncle, "She's gotten very close with my sons this year. I know my Ronald would love the company. She could bunk with my daughter, Ginny."

"Mrs. Weasley, I see where your son gets his tension for sticking his freckled nose where it doesn't belong," His grip on my shoulder was so tight it was going to leave a bruise, "I hope you have enough respect to keep family matters like this private."

Jasper didn't wait for them to respond. We disappeared with a loud pop. Poppi, with a large welt on her forehead, stood in the corner with watery eyes when I landed back in the noticeably less friendly home of the Greengrasses.

☾☾☾☾

-July 4th-

I arrived at the dark-toned Malfoy Manor the next afternoon, with sore, puffy eyes. I was such a fool to think I could get away with that. The night was long and he didn't stop screaming at me until dawn had broken. Astoria and Daphne both saw my puffy eyes but with the hawk-like gaze of their father watching our interaction, they didn't ask

"Behave." Uncle Jasper hissed at me when he dropped me off. Not another word was spoken as he left without a hint of care. Bernard, from the leather carrying case, that his fluffy fur was sticking out of slightly, hissed out a low growl at my Uncle Jasper's exit. Cutting him off with a rattle of the wrist, he meowed irritably.

Narcissa Malfoy's presence across the grand foyer filled the empty room with an intensity like I was on stage naked. Her calculated eyes scanned me and paused on my eyes. Minutes passed before her expression twitched and she gently grabbed my face in her hand tilting it to the side but dropped her hand after a second. Her lips frowned so quickly I wondered if I imagined it.

"I see my work is cut out for me. Just like my cousin, Sirius, it seems. I trust whatever earned you puffy eyes like thatwill not be attempted in my home," She commented sternly. It would have been foolish for me to expect the same abundance of maternal energy of Molly Weasley in someone as poised and poisonous as Narcissa Malfoy even if she was my godmother. As she turned on her heel and gestured for me to follow, she quickly added, "I'll send for a soothing salve. Frog eyes like those aren't presentable for a blossoming lady. Dobby will bring your things to your room. It's the same one you stayed in last time. The one you always stay in."

The room was on the second floor, near the tea room and below the aviary. It was the room I stayed at when The Malfoy's would watch me during Astoria's hospital visits when I was younger. My room at Malfoy Manor was nothing like my room at Greengrass Estate. Where there were light, and pastels and gentle reminders of the Greengrass Family's superiority, there was only darkness, deep greens and greys, and an attack at anyone who dared suggest this family wasn't something akin to wizarding royalty. The wooden walls were paneled like at home but there were no murals or light colors.

The sunlight was stolen by the cloudy atmosphere ever hanging above the manor. Even in summer, the grounds rolled with thick, gloomy fog. The only light tones in the garden were the occasional white toned flower and the rare, albino peacocks. Shadows seemed to thrive in this home making everything dark and mysterious. My pale skin looked tinted blue trapped in the thick gloom.

The room they assigned to me was large. It wasn't by mistake. They wanted their guest to never forget their wealth. My bed was a large poster bed with lush dark green bedding, and a dark wood overhang. There was a vanity of the same dark wood with a candle, a medium-sized jewelry box, and drawers filled with cosmetics no doubt. I knew when opened the wooden box played a haunting melody. You grew to like it more than the silence. The only sign of life in the room was the red roses on the vanity. A small, emerald chair was set before a fireplace on a dark rug, and a large mirror was placed in the corner. Other than the wardrobe near the entrance and a tapestry of snakes, it was bare and felt cold. It was worse in the winter but at least the fire gave it warmth and life.

Draco's room was across the hall and two doors down. It was a large building and they loved that. He used to convince me to sneak to his room at night to play with his toys, and he also used to be scared of thunderstorms and would sneak into my bed until a few years ago. Before I started taking the sleeping potion, he would even let me sleep in his bed sometimes to stay up late trading ghost stories. It was innocent and fun before he realized he was a Malfoy and what that required. Now when I walked the halls I couldn't help but feel something hidden in the countless shadows watching me, waiting for me to trip to devour me whole. Sometimes Draco makes me feel exactly the same way.

A house elf, a female one, that I didn't recognize as Dobby, or Gilly snapped into the room making me jump slightly from the tension of Narcissa staring from the doorway. The house elf bowed deeply, and gestured to my luggage weakly, "Zeesey is just a word away if little miss needs anything."

With a tiny nod, I responded, "Thank you, Zeesey."

The whites of Zeesey's eyes shot open and Narissa's heels clicked against the wooden floor toward me to lean down with a hiss, "Never thank house elves. You are a witch. Zeesey, leave us be. You can unpack her things in a moment. Prepare tea in the tea room. Jasmine."

"I'm sorry," I apologized for the offense I seemed to cause her. She stiffly rolled her eyes before they slowly slinked down my body. Goosebumps rose on my skin from the calculated look on her face.

"You've lost weight. Good. I can see some of your mother behind all of the Vaile. You have her smile," She said with her nose tilted up in the same way many purebloods do, "At least you can still dress appropriately. Come. We shall have tea and discuss the summer."

As she turned to leave the room, I looked down at my outfit, thankful I didn't pack any of the few pairs of pants my uncle allowed. I wore a cotton navy overall style dress with a low scoop neckline, seashell buttons going down the center, and a three-layered ruffle skirt puffed with a few underskirts of petticoats. Due to the scoop neckline, I wore a high neck, ruffled blouse in white with a navy silk ribbon around the collar tied in a bow. In the center of the bow was a sparkly pearl, diamond, and silver brooch that once belonged to my mother. Simple Mary Jane shoes and white ruffled socks completed the look, and Narcissa approved. I missed the white linen frocks we wore at Greengrass Estate. It wasn't warm enough for those here.

I followed her down the hall nervously running a hand through my loose curls avoiding making eye contact with the pale-faced portraits watching our movements. Narcissa was beautiful with her strange duotone hair. She wore a long grey gown, with large emerald earrings and necklace to match. Her posture was perfect and was stiff from the energy in the air.

When we arrived at the tea room, my face curved into a sad smile at the memories of this place. If there was absolutely none of his guy friends around to make fun of him, Draco and I would have tea parties here with my dolls and pretend to discuss important adult things. As a child, there were many times Draco didn't want a girl ruining their fun and sent me to keep his mother company. She made it fun with dressing up, playing dolls in an antique dollhouse, a house elf cleaned up, and discussions of wizarding literature as I grew out of childish games. Narcissa was the strongest female adult figure in my life for a long time.

The room was exactly as I left it last. It was the most feminine room in the house, as it was intended for the lady of the house to entertain friends and herself here. The walls were covered with a black wallpaper with grey roses filling the darkness. Candles, flowers, and other small knick-knacks filled the smaller dark wooden tables. Dark velvet loveseats and matching chairs with curved armrests gathered around a grand marble fireplace. A portrait of mermaids sinking a muggle ship hung above it. Beside the fireplace, the area had a small table for wizard's chess, and other parlor games, and a radio connected to the Wizarding Wireless Network. If the radio was playing unsuitable music, there was a grand piano my fingers graced many times before a window with thick curtains. Draco and I used to learn duets.

Like many times before this, Narcissa gently folded into the velvet chair near the dead fireplace and I awkwardly stood in front of her. Bernard, who I'd let out of the case earlier, sat by my feet ignoring the cold glance of Narcissa. Her own white, half-kneezle cat was perched on a pillow near the window mirroring her snooty expression. His name was Lazarus and had a silk, black bow of ribbon around his neck. He liked to mess with the house elves. Draco hated the cat. There was a soft hiss toward Bernard, who stared at the cat appearing to look bored.

"You have managed to create quite a reputation for yourself at Hogwarts this year with the help of that Boy Who Lived. Perhaps in some circles, it is something to be celebrated but not ours. Not yours. Jasper has asked me to remind you what it means to be a pureblood heir. Especially one as well-bred as yourself. Growing up without your mother has clearly created terrible results and needs to be rectified. This summer you will become the pureblood lady your mother was," Narcissa lectured as two house elves prepared the teatime table near the window and piano for our meal. Silence fell between us awkwardly making her shift stiffly in her uncomfortable looking dress.

"Mistress, tea time ready," One of the house elves bowed quickly quivering in fear when Narcissa's disgusted gaze fell on the small creature. With a nod from her master, the elf disappeared and we moved to the tea area. The tea set was black with white flowers and golden edges bleeding luxury into the imported tea. Even the sugar cubes were finely ground and in various shapes. The skull-shaped sugar cubes looked haunting against the black china. There was a small stand filled with various wizarding pastries and finger sandwiches. My stomach pulled at the sight of food nauseously. I grabbed a small lemon cookie to be polite and sipped on the summery tea rigidly. I bet Ron, and Hermione were having more fun than me right now. Maybe even Harry. Then again, those Dursleys sounded terrible.

"We will have tea every day to discuss manners and other things a lady should know. This could be anything from picking a proper match to the suitable undergarments for certain outfits and occasions," She listed off stirring cream into her tea not noticing the embarrassed blush at the mention of underwear, "You will spend the rest of your time bringing up your grades and doing approved activities. No more muddy greenhouse days. Perhaps you could pick up a florist hobby instead. It is much less messy. I sent for my old bow to be cleaned for you to pick up archery. Your mother and I adored the sport at your age. Perhaps that will get all your...Gryffindor energy out. Hm. You still enjoy the piano?" 

"Yes, Ma'am," I responded. She smiled ever so slightly.

"Good. You were so talented. I enjoyed listening to you play while I read, Perhaps Draco and you can perform a duet for one of my luncheons," She nodded looking out the window. Far away I could see three figures on brooms zooming around the garden, It must be Draco and the others. His mother pressed on, "Also, you will continue to practice your dance lessons with Draco. A few summer events are coming soon that I want him perfectly prepared for."

"Draco?" I winced thinking of the times she used to make us practice together, "He never seemed to enjoy learning with me. Pansy Parkinson might be a better partner."

"That girl has two left feet and a face like a small dog. Her older sister, Primavera, got the beauty in that family. It isn't much, either. I heard she's with the Flint boy," She sniffed irritatedly confessing to me with a small smirk, "Not that Helene would ever admit that. Parkinson's have always been leeches."

I didn't know what to say. Pansy wasn't as beautiful as Daphne or her sister but she wasn't ugly. At least to me. Honestly, she was exactly the kind of girl people expected when they pictured a pureblood Slytherin Heiress. If Pansy was ugly, I wonder if she thought I was a troll. Narcissa noticed my silence and, not in an attempt to comfort me but rather state a cold fact, started looking over my body again, "You'll be more beautiful than her once you grow out of the awkward stage. Vaile's are known to be ugly ducklings as children. I can already see so much of your mother too."

"I...didn't know that," I mumbled lightly. I didn't get to know anything about my family. And she just admitted I was ugly. I wanted to cover my entire face.

"Don't mumble," Narcissa snapped before taking a sip of her tea, "Draco will do as his mother tells him to do. Especially if he wants his father to buy those brooms for the Slytherin Quidditch team."

As much as I wanted to press on what she meant, I knew Draco would brag about whatever that referenced the first time I saw him. Hopefully, I can avoid him for a while. His mother set down her tea and stared at me, "You will not be writing to anyone in Gryffindor while under this roof. They are a horrible influence on you. You will not visit them, speak about them, or even think about them. You will do as you are told when you are told. Do you understand, Estelle?"

"Yes, Ms. Malfoy," I nodded. She gave me a sickly sweet smile and gestured to my uneaten cookie.

"Good. A lady must watch her figure," She approved gazing out the window. We both winced as we saw one of the larger figures fall off the end of the broom. The other two figures flew down to him and started to head toward the main building. As they got closer you could make out Goyle holding his wrist, Crabb looking panicked and Draco frowning while his mouth moved heatedly fussing at his friend for cutting their game short.

☾☾☾☾

-July 4th-

The day had been a flurry of on-call healers and Goyle's parents eventually flooing him away. I knew from the voices echoing down the hall into the tea room that Zambini and Nott had joined the Malfoy Heir, replacing Goyle and Crabbe, who went to the doctor with him. I tried to focus on the sheet music Narcissa tasked me to learn for the tea party she was hosting tomorrow. It was easier to stress about the melody than the judgmental glares of the adult pureblood ladies. Helene Parkinson and worse would be attending increasing the pompous air of the manor by brunch tomorrow. The song was flowing more and more fluid as I memorized the notes. Occasionally a misplaced finger would send a sharp note echoing into the room ruining the melody.

"Ugh," I bit my lip as I misplayed the hardest part once more. The sharp sound of a slow clap made me jump on the piano bench. My head turned to the sound so sharply my black hair hit my face slightly from the motion. Draco, with white-blond hair slicked back, stood smugly clapping with Zambini and Nott behind him. His silver eyes scanned me in my summer dress calculatedly.

"Look boys, the little Gryffindor Fraud has come to play with us this holiday," He sneered at me stalking across the room with the other's trailing him, "I wonder if Dumbledore would like you so much if he heard that mess."

"It's a new song," I mumbled trying to focus on the keys and messing up more and more as he walked closer until he was leaning against the piano sneering, and finally closed the key cover tensely, "Do you need something, Malfoy?"

"Malfoy!?" He sneered laughing, "Look at you trying to sound like those mudblood, blood traitor friends of yours. I haven't forgotten how you used to follow us around like a house elf."

"Did everything we said," Theodor's weedy frame twitched excitedly. Blaise just stayed silent.

"Don't call her that!" I hissed weakly up at Draco. I could feel a nervous cold sweat gather at my dark hairline. I just wanted to stay out of trouble and not antagonize him.

Draco frowned amused in a, 'Why Not', sort of expression, "She's a filthy mudblood. You know it."

"No. I don't," I shook my head roughly, opening the piano again tuning them out with the melody. The notes were heavy and tense from the pressure I pressed each down. Honestly, the sound filling the air was rough and clunky against my eardrums. Bernard, from his place on the piano, and hissed at Draco. Jumping away from the angry cat fearfully, the small smirk on my face was hidden by a thick wall of dark hair. Draco sneered at me and Bernard and turned to leave the room with his arrogant swagger. At Malfoy Manor, Draco was the prince of the kingdom and he knew it. Shame Hogwarts wasn't the same experience for him as he expected.

Leaning against the doorframe with a pleased smirk, I saw him smile at his friends out the corner of my eye, "Looks like we have some entertainment this summer, boys."

They left with haunting snickers but Blaise turned to look at me with an eyebrow looking at the piano half-interested before following, "Bach isn't a walk in the park. He's one of the best composers in my opinion." 

Once more I was left alone in the room staring at the doorway the snotty boys had just exited through and sighed deeply until there was not a whisper of air in my lungs. Bernard meowed and batted my hand lightly. I frowned, and reached over to pet him, "I can't believe I thought I was actually going to be able to spend the summer with Ron, ... and George. Merlin, this summer is going to be awful." 

☾☾☾☾

(Please comment if you enjoyed this chapter! More to come soon!- Caroline) 


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Dark Summer Days at Malfoy Manor

-July 10th-

The past summers at Malfoy Manor were nothing compared to this. Now that I had grown familiar with the warmth and cheer of Hogwarts, specifically the Gryffindor common room, the darkness overwhelming the edges of the manor felt suffocating. Even the venomous light and beauty of the Greengrass family home paired with my longing for warmth and life. Everything seemed drained of all life here and spat back at the remains with a slick smirk. Even the weather was filled with gloom, with the cool temperatures and ever-present fog. I rarely got a chance to wear my beloved white, lace frock dresses.

Narcissa had quickly placed me into a looping routine that only varied slightly. Long summer afternoons had been consumed by providing music to various social gatherings Narcissa hosted with the grand piano. Even if I was confident in my piano skills, the experience was draining with the side comments of the other pureblooded ladies, which always followed by snickers escaping behind gloved hands or porcelain teacups. Narcissa must have had an idea that something like this would happen and clearly hoped it was shaming against repeating my behavior during my first year. It worked, mostly. There was a small part of me that felt angry they weren't thankful for mine and my friend's actions to protect the wizarding world. The grievances with their cattiness were buried down deep into the bottomless pit of hurt in silence.

Luckily, entertaining guests only happened a few times as there were enough of the pureblood women eager to boast about their own homes to spread the visits around. Narcissa spent her days lecturing me about proper behavior. One day after discussing the changes coming to my body soon, the heat in my face blossomed crimson until the following day. The heat returned when she told me that some time this week she would be taking me to buy my first bras. We were simply waiting for Jasper's letter with my family vault key to arrive. No longer were the Greengrasses supporting me. I can't believe I was jealous of Daphne's first period earlier this summer. This is humiliating.

The time away from Narcissa was spent in their pristine garden where there was not a single leaf out of place or weed sneaking a spot among the beautiful flowerbeds. Narcissa and Lucius rarely ventured the gardens, except for the occasional sunset stroll. Lucius spent a lot of time in the aviary. My hands and inner arm ached from scuffs given by the shiny new bow by Narcissa. It was surprising to discover it was her own bow from childhood. I tried not to get too carried away with the meaning behind the gift. Besides, I was absolutely terrible at archery. The arrow, despite hours of concentrated practice, had only landed on the target once time. It was the outer ring as well and fell out of the target within seconds. Draco loved mocking me from the sidelines. Occasionally, his friends would join him. Daphne and Pansy had even made an appearance once. The familiar sight of my pseudo-sister warmed me with a sense of comfort, despite the snickering that escaped her light pink lips when my arrow flopped to the ground halfway to the target pathetically.

It was funny to note that if more than a day passed without any visitors for Draco he was willing to burn time with me. He actually got somewhat into taking turns shooting the bow with me and seriously trying to figure out exactly what we both needed to improve on. It was similar to when we learned piano duets or dances together. Draco's boredom was shockingly the only thing that raised my childhood friend from the ashes for rare moments. Once or twice he came into my room and sat at the foot of the bed flipping through various spell-books. The enjoyment I found in these rare moments was something to take to the grave, and it seemed to be a mutual feeling.

The more enjoyable garden activity was simply spreading out in the cool grass to make my way through, 'The Druidic Blood of Merlin.' The grass was thick and darker then the sun dusted blades at Hogwarts or Greengrass Estate. After getting a grass stain on a light blue dress, and the irritation it fueled Narcissa's lecture with after spotting the stain, the house elves arranged a purple picnic blanket to layout. Sometimes I just gazed at the clouds letting my head fill with dreams about wild fantasies and stories. Other-times my head was filled with the knowledge buried within the book about Merlin and his druidic blood. The solitude I experienced at Malfoy Manor had my fingertips flipping through the pages of the massive tomb quickly. The thing about the druid culture that teased me mercilessly was their strict policy against the writings of their culture. It was all to be passed down mouth to mouth. They thought of the written word as something dead and could never give life to anything healthy. My faith was put in the hands of the author of this book and accepted his so-called findings of the lost magical culture. I imagined the sacred oak groves alive with the energy of rituals and adoration from the druids. I pictured myself studying at one of the monasteries for twenty passionate years. I imagined joining hands in stone circles to fuse energy to predict prophecies and future kings. Perhaps I would have been blessed with Imbas forosnai, which was the ancient gift of clairvoyance. Or pictured letting thick waves of the féth fíada billow from my fingers. The words depicting the enchanted mist that protected the druids made the thick, sinister fog of Malfoy Manor shrink. I imagined celebrating the eerie Samhain and springtime Imbolc. I imagined being one with nature and nature being one with me. Overall, the book let me pretend that I was something special and worthwhile in my daydreams

Merlin was the last of the people. In a growing Christian fueled, magic intolerant world, he was a relic of the past representing the dying Old Religion. His mother, Cliodna, was the daughter of the last High Priest of the druids. The priests were the talented witches and wizards as the druids were both magical and non-magical families. According to the book, after the first genocide from the Romans, the druids were very secretive and hid away from the rest of the world. But the Catholics ambushed their annual gathering and only a handful was able to escape, including a pregnant Cliodna. Most were muggles, save two elder priests. Teaching her son what she could as the last of their people, she had no choice but to send her son to Hogwarts for his safety during the dangerous times for magical folk. He was one of the only true druid children that ever attended Hogwarts, if not the only one. 

There were a lot of chapters about the Roman and Catholic genocide at the start. Suppose because it's the most recorded part of druidic history. The Romans slaughtered them, for not bending the knee to their rule as the loyalty to their faith and culture flowed through their veins like blood. The Catholics feared their celebration of magic, and worship of the world around them seeing lakes, wildlife, and other natural figures to be sacred above all. They never recovered from the Roman purge and the Catholic's finished the job for them. The lack of written culture made erasing the Druids easy for their enemies as they only had to destroy the priests and priestesses. They did not just cut the blossom from the flower but ripped out the roots. So much lost. So many questions.

As I laid stomach up on the slightly dirty picnic blanket enjoying the way the weak sunlight felt against my skin, a shadow covered my face. My absentminded humming halted as I opened my squinty eyes. Draco's pale, thin face peered down at me. My body didn't move to pick myself up from the grassy floor. A breeze blew thickly before Malfoy finally broke his silence. A rude insult or two and he would be off. Judging by the brand new broom in his hand, he was planning on practicing his Quidditch. The growing boy's silver eyes landed on the open book I'd been buried in since my arrival. Rudely stepping over my body and ripping the heavy, aged book to eye level, Draco's scoff filled the air. A great thud echoed in the garden making a ghostly peacock bristle at the shock and bolt away from us. The heir couldn't be bothered to care about the disturbance he was causing in the soberly peaceful garden.

My muscles cried out slightly from the sudden movement when I leaned up to check on the book. There were no ripped pages or bent passages from the tumble. My face twisted into a deep scowl which only made Draco's energy seem even more pleased with himself.

"You could have ripped it," I muttered, closing the thick, aged book and hugging it to my chest. My arms wrapped around the pages like vines growing over large boulders in the woods.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Like it matters, Vaile. It's obvious your family just made that story about Merlin up. That mudblood was the only reason you even passed most of your classes."

"Don't call her that," I hissed tensely. Shame washed over me in tense spasms thinking about the expression Hermione would have if she heard the slurs hurled at her on a daily basis, "I did well in potions, charms, and herbology."

"Well, I did well in everything," Draco bragged, perfectly igniting the childhood embarrassment and shame he had gotten so good at rousing up, "Father's always hired the best tutors for me."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I frowned with a deep sigh. This interaction would be over soon and my mind could fade back into the soft, warm world of daydreams and cloud watching.

"Malfoy? Tsk, thought you'd given up that act by now. Your Gryffindor freaks aren't around," Draco frowned readjusting his grip on his shiny new broom, "You're going to run drills with me. I need competition if I'm going to get faster."

"Me?" I winced distastefully remembering how fun I actually used to have with this boy playing on brooms, "What about Crabb and Goyle?"

"Two lunks who wouldn't know one end of a broomstick from another," He scowled, "Can't play the sport to save your life but at least you can keep up on a broom."

"Zambini or Nott?" I tried again more desperately this time. My book whispered to me longingly sending tingles up my fingers where they lightly grazed the cover. I had no desire to compete or spend time with Draco right now. My feelings would be torn to shreds by sundown.

"You live here," Draco reminded me, "Dobby!"

With a loud pop, my favorite house elf, besides Poppi, appeared hunched over as if he was trying to disappear into the filthy rags he dressed in. The little creature quivered before the cruel boy waiting for his orders. Draco, overwhelmed with repulsion, waved a hand carelessly, "Put away Vaile's junk. And fetch another broom."

"Right away, Young Master," Dobby bowed so deeply his nose touched the rough grass. It would have been comical if he wasn't covered with scars and healing wounds from self-inflicted punishments. The Malfoys were cruel to their house elves. Even still, I'd seen worse. Something deep and primal within me rejected this disrespect but my habit of cowering in a burst of quivers was almost as bad as Dobby. Standing up, and trying to channel my best impersonation of Daphne, I crossed my arms and thinned my lips, "I don't want to run drills with you."

"I don't care," Draco scoffed amused as if it wasn't obvious enough and turned on his heel to the empty clearing used to flying and sang lightly, "I'll get my Father to tell your Uncle you are being bad if you don't."

"That's not fair!" I cried in horror. Draco's thin shoulder's merely offered an arrogant shrug with a smile growing on his face. My heart thudded quicker and quicker as I picked up my pace to keep up with him.

"I can't fly a broom! I'm wearing a dress," I hissed with a slight warmth coming to my cheeks. 

My robin's egg blue pleated dress, with elbow-length sleeves, light blue flats, and a white Peter Pan collar was not quidditch appropriate. The full skirt that went to my mid-thigh would fly up and expose my underwear the moment we took off. The spotless athletic shoes donning Draco's feet suddenly stopped and he turned to look at me stiffly. The paleness of his cheeks did nothing to hide the ever faintest pink flush rising on his cheeks. His eyelids widened from their constant glare. The surprise of my statement had left him without a witty comment. Thinking of his mother's reaction to seeing me flying in a dress, I urgently pressed the issue hoping it was a good enough reason to get out of this, "Your mother would be furious if I flew in this dress."

Another awkward silence stretched with a thousand micro-expressions fading in and out on Draco's face, my stiff flats scuffed against the dark garden path lightly, "Um, Malfoy?"

"R-right!" He suddenly snapped and quickly forced his face into a tense sneer with red cheeks, "It's easy to forget you're a girl. I mean, look at you." 

I recoiled at the sudden jab at my appearance. Draco's flushed cheeks faded once getting the reaction he aimed for with his insult. With a heavy sigh of irritation, he summoned another house elf. It was Gilly, the older, female house elf.

"Help her get a change of clothes. Quickly," He ordered. With a somewhat poised thud, he rested leisurely on the lip of the large stone fountain in the center of the garden. There were iridescent, magical fish that swim lazily in their small captivity. Gilly, with a gentle apology, wrapped a wrinkled hand around my wrist and apparated me into the gloomy bedroom I'd been assigned. The familiar magic twisted my stomach until my knees felt weak. As a pureblood raised with travel such as this, I had long passed the stage of getting sick from magically popping in and out of places. I considered not showing up with a change in outfit and ignoring the commands of the Slytherin Prince but fear about Gilly receiving punishment forced me to rummage through the antique wardrobe filled with dresses and skirts. I didn't own any denim, as my Uncle viewed it as muggle fabric, and didn't allow trousers because it was 'unladylike.' There was maybe one pair that could work I received ages ago for bike and horseback riding. My irritation of being spinelessly bossed around nearly tore the baggy tweed shorts with a slightly less baggy brown long-sleeved shirt. Luckily, Malfoy Manor was always cool despite it being July. I didn't bother changing the blue ribbon out my hair to match the brown tones.

The boy still looked a bit uncomfortable when Gilly returned me to the walkway near the luxurious fountain. It was rare to see Draco tensed with uncertainty, especially around me. The innocence of it should not feel so nostalgic as a mere second year. Like a bucket of water being dumped onto his maturing shoulders, his eyes hardened and snapped, "What are you staring at? I've been down here for ages! Girls are so slow."

"If you are going to make me do this can we at least make it fun?" I sighed running my fingers along the polished wood of the unfamiliar broom. Malfoys always had the finest and newest possessions around their property. It was only befitting for such a well-bred family to reflect their status with opulent possessions. Small tingles of the magic enchanted into the wood buzzed against my fingertips.

"This is not a fun activity, Stell. I'm training," Draco muttered shifting his eyes in my direction a handful of times with the sound of the fountain fading with each of our somewhat in tune steps. The flying grounds were the simplest part of the grounds. Bushes and trees would only serve as a danger. The grass was trimmed perfectly, and there wasn't a weed or rock in sight. The pristine upkeep was more for appearances because it wasn't like we were running around in the grass. Obstacles to measure speed and races had replaced the Quidditch goals, either due to Narcissa or the house elves. Draco and I used to get drunk on adrenaline zooming around the pitch and testing out different dives, rolls, and twirls in the cool, foggy sky. I'd only managed to beat Draco a handful of times, which were all quickly dismissed as flukes.

"You and your little friends won't be able to steal the House Cup again next year once I'm on the Slytherin Team. I'm a seeker now, you know. Father got the whole team Nimbus 2001s. Scarhead doesn't stand a chance," Draco boasted while mounting the broom with extreme familiarity and comfort. Even as a child, his toy broomstick was never too far from him, or else there would be a nasty fit in response. I rolled my eyes at his back at his stupid underestimation of Harry's skill with flying. If Draco saw the way Harry handled those enchanted keys I don't think he would be so loud about boasting.

Rising higher into the air, a smile charmed its way across my lips despite my best attempt at looking as miserable as possible. It has been so long since I've flown on a broom without getting a grade. The crispness of the air filled my lungs. The heat from the sun peaking between clouds warmed my face. Sighing contently, my eyes closed facing the sun to drink up the warmth greedily.

"Some Gryffindor you are, Vaile. You didn't even try and defend Potter! At least you realize which of us is the better flyer. Shouldn't get all the praise he gets. No real match would ever accept the disgusting way he caught the snitch in his mouth last year. He looked like a frog," Draco prodded me ruining my peaceful moment. My eyes, moving slowly from suppressed annoyance, met his own antagonizing gaze. Words pressed against my mouth hotly but my teeth pulled my bottom lip between them pressing into the pink skin tensely.

"If you are so confident, I don't see why you need me to practice with you," I attempted to use his pride against him but Draco's glare made it clear I wasn't going to get out of this. A deep sigh fell from my lips sounding sharper in the stillness of the sky, I nodded to the racing markers reluctantly, "Usual routine?"

"Clearly," Draco said leaving his words echoing behind him as he sped off without a warning. There was never a countdown, and he rarely was above using a cheap trick to cheat his victory against me. I sped off behind him pulling my body close to the staff of the broom. I guess some things will never change.

☾☾☾☾

-July 13th-

Draco Malfoy, if he knew how to do anything perfectly, it was how to stir up a magnificent fit. The moment he saw Narcissa explaining the importance of keeping track of my vault key his mind was determined to enjoy a day flaunting his family's endless wealth on whatever catches his attention. Narcissa, who had been contemplating a third outfit change for her disgraced goddaughter, had her hands full with her spoiled rotten son. His determination to strut about Diagon Alley, despite his birthday just recently passing and getting every single thing he could want, made him oblivious to the way his mother danced around the reason for our trip and the crimson flush consuming my pale skin.

"I don't understand why I can't join you," Draco whined childishly with the crossing of his arms, defiantly ignoring his mother's rejection, "I'm your son. Bring me instead!"

"Draco, dear," Narcissa treaded lightly aware of how I wanted the ground to swallow me up, "I'll bring you on a special trip later this week but I'm sure Estelle would appreciate a little respect about this. It's a special trip."

"Special trip?" Draco narrowed his eyes in confusion glancing at my humiliating aura, "Why do you get a special trip? Your birthday is in February!"

"I-," I squeaked out feeling simultaneously on fire and lightheaded all at once. Across the entrance hall, there was a silver gilded mirror reflecting a scarlet red version of myself. Narcissa, wincing at the encounter slightly, took pity on my humiliation.

"Estelle is starting to mature, just like you. Ladies require certain...special lady supplies. You would hardly be an appropriate tag along," Narcissa hesitantly explained. There was a brief pause before Draco's irritation inflated into a mixture of disgust and embarrassment. There was a slight blush on his cheeks, but it came nowhere close to rivaling the way I looked more like a Phoenix than a girl.

His eyes glanced to me again with a wince and his features twisted into a total state of repulsion. It was like the face Ron, Harry, Hermione and I pulled when the rotten smell of that mountain troll on Halloween filled the girl's bathroom. Softly, he muttered past disgust curled lips, "Ew."

"Draco! Be a gentleman," His mother scolded half-heartedly. It wasn't like I was someone they needed to impress. I was a Gryffindor Blood Traitor.

"It's Estelle," He hissed with the roll of his eyes, pausing to look at me again and pulled a face, "Can we go later this week, Mother? Without Estelle?"

"Of course, Draco," Lucious' pompous voice echoed in the great room against the marble floors announcing his entrance, "Coming from a great family like ours comes with certain perks. Maybe if those Weasley's weren't so disgraceful they wouldn't live in that shack counting their sickels."

Officially overwhelmed with the entire Malfoy family currently present for my first trip to buy bras, it was hard to balance the anger of his insult. Lucius smiled down at me as he approached our little group daring me to mouth off against him but I was both spineless and knew better than to challenge the man housing me. Gracefully leaning over to press a chaste kiss onto his wife's cheek, he inquired about the situation, "Narcissa, I overhear you are bringing Estelle to Diagon Alley? Is this trip...absolutely necessary? Your soft spot for your goddaughter couldn't be great enough that you are not familiar with the chattering around her name at the moment and how this may reflect onto our family."

"Lucius, we discussed this. With the ministry organizing so many raids, being seen with her will cast suspicions elsewhere," Narcissa reminded her husband, who nodded barely concealing his annoyance. I had already learned of this earlier in my stay that they were spinning the events at the end of the year in their favor. Lucius even invited over a handful of coworkers who hoped to learn details about the rumor with You-Know-Who. Despite having to tell them I wasn't allowed to talk about it, it was more than enough confirmation for Lucius to earn favor. I felt used like a malnourished elephant at a muggle circus forced to perform for my safety.

"I hadn't forgotten but surely this...shopping trip can wait for when we bring the children to get their school supplies?" Lucius tensely prompted.

"Estelle requires a few things that can't be put off," Narcissa firmly pushed away her husband's gentle disapproval. Normally she was the perfect housewife dotting and supporting her husband's word but there were rare moments she went against it like the determined Slytherin woman she was. Lucius looked skeptical and wasn't getting the hint. There was nothing more I wanted to do than scream in horror and hide under the covers of my bed for the rest of the week. Did the whole family have to know?

"Girl stuff, Father," Draco explained, twisting his face up in distaste from having to discuss it again. Silence suddenly dominated the enormous entrance hall. My hand nervously combed through the long curls when I noticed the pale-faced portraits looking on in amusement. I'm so glad my humiliation is entertaining to glorified paint swatches. Clearing his throat and adjusting the collar on his robes, his light eyebrows slowly retreated from his hairline.

"Ah, I see. Carry on," He nodded stiffly before using his black cane to gently steer, an equally uncomfortable Draco, from the room, "This is women's business, son. Let's go see how your new broom is treating you."

The father and son quickly fled the room like they were being chased by Peeve's throwing waves of dung bombs on their tail. Soon, it was just me, Narcissa, and a couple of snickering portraits near the fireplace. Everything in me had to fight from burying my head in my hands from the overwhelming embarrassment. This was already worse than I feared. Soft tutting brought my attention to Narcissa who was frowning at a gem-encrusted pocket-watch. Sighing, she looked over my outfit in defeat, "I suppose that dress will do. We are already running too late for you to change again."

Glancing down at my outfit, I tried not to be too offended at her disapproval of one of my more favored dresses. It was a multi-toned grey frock in a tiny diamond pattern with thin straps tied in a neat bow on my shoulders. Under was a simple, high collared blouse in a breathable white fabric that matched my white knee-high socks. I even matched the ribbon to my dress that pulled back my hair in the half-up, half-down style I always wore it in. Maybe it didn't scream prestige enough, but it was cute. Had she forgotten that she helped pick it out last year?

"Remember, you need to keep an eye on that key." Narcissa stiffly reminded me as she handed the small golden skeleton key to me. I couldn't help but smile despite the lingering embarrassment. Another thing my father left me. Another link to my parents.

Narcissa led the way once we flooed into Diagon Alley snootily pushing past the crowd with her nose tilted upward. I was short and hesitant behind her and struggled not to get lost in the crowd. The metal of the key grew warm from being pressed tightly into my palm hard enough to leave a mark. One man tried to say hello to Narcissa but she made it clear by only nodding politely but remaining on course that he wasn't worth wasting her time and throwing off her schedule even more.

Gringotts covered me with the same slick, coating aura of the ancient magic stored within their walls as always. Even the goblin's themselves were alight with magical energy. The power in the back tickled against my skin almost painfully and made a vein twitch on my forehead to the rhythm of my heartbeat. Ms. Malfoy, unaffected by the raw energy, simply crossed the marble floor toward the main desk with heels clicking against the marble floor and a clear comfort with the way things were run here. I had only been to the vaults with my Uncle a handful of times. Often he left Daphne and I above in the foyer with Astoria as the carts only went at a dangerous breakneck speed. My nerves were alive, not only from the overwhelming magical energy but from the excitement of seeing my vault for the very first time. It was deep within the caverns below the bank, as The Vaile Family was an extremely old wizarding family. The Greengrass vault was number 709 but the Vaile Vault was much deeper at number 823. A goblin would have to accompany us just to open the door and guide us past the protections.

A wrinkly goblin frowned down at Narcissa who stiffly frowned back and couldn't be bothered to care about the countless goblin eyes staring at her from their high stools behind their desks. I was not nearly at the same level of ease with the greedy eyes sizing us up. Narcissa, with a stiff cough, spoke making every sound that came from her mouth drenched in her clear opinion of superiority, "Ms. Estelle Vaile is here to collect some things from her vault."

"Does Ms. Vaile have her key?" The goblin sneered back with the same superior tone in his voice as Narcissa's. Peering down at me, I gave a small nod and lifted the hand clutching the key tightly who gazed at the slightly sweaty key with an intense focus before nodding gruffly.

"Very well. I'll have someone escort you to her vault momentarily," He agreed and rudely used his tiny hands to push us to the side to wait for an employee to help us. Narcissa's mouth let a few indignant chirps escape before an equally grumpy look goblin came up and gestured to us to follow him, not waiting for us to catch up. Seeing Narcissa stuffed into the dirty cart and trying to keep her neatly styled hair in place against the harsh wind from the rapid pace of the cart on the track as we ventured lower and lower into the caverns. We passed chained dragons, and if we were going any slower I would have been inspired to ask about the conditions of the dragon's care at the mere sight of the poor creature. The Malfoy Lady's tense mood worsened when she was soaked to the bone from passing through a thick waterfall that made your skin tingly lightly. Sneering at the horrified pureblood lady, the goblin sneered gleefully, "The Thief's downfall. Just one of the defenses we have down deep in the caverns."

Narcissa sniffed indigently and sat with her arms crossed for the rest of the short ride until we slowed to a stop near a large, ancient-looking door with the letters 823 carved into it. The small stone passageway was filled with flickering torchlight making the no-fluff atmosphere of the bare stone walls look ancient and the barrier between hidden secrets about my family. I was out of the cart and nearly hopped to the door with excitement, waiting for the short-legged goblin to open the door for me. I realized I didn't know his name as the door slid open, with Narcissa catching up to stand behind me but Narcissa's gasp drew my attention away.

The vault was full of massive piles of coins in silver, bronze, and mostly gold, but the other things were what caught my eye. Countless works of art, from portraits to sculptures to vases, filled the room. Relics and jewelry gathered dust in their piles. An entire wall of the vault was lined with thick, ancient-looking tombs with various shades of cracked leather spines. Everything in me wanted to dive into the large vault and caress each object that seemed to spew out magical energy but from the look in Narcissa and the goblin's eyes, this was not the time to dwell on my family's hidden treasures.

"Ms. Malfoy," I spoke up sounding a bit breathless at the surprise and held out the empty coin pouch to the older woman, "How much should I get out?"

My question seemed to snap everyone out of their daze and she gently took the pouch and collected a large handful of galleons, sickles, and a couple of knuts. She placed the now heavy pouch into her robe pocket and ushered us out the room eyeing a rather large diamond atop a pile of carved runic rocks.

We had to bustle out Gringotts with the memory of my vault shoved out of our thoughts to make our fitting appointment at Twilfitt and Tattings. Fittings normally were nothing but a bit boring as you had to stay very still to get the right measurements but this was the fitting of my nightmares. It was the clothing shop for the wizarding elite and the professionalism and experience reflected their prices. I was brought to a private room and changed into a tank top and underwear while a charmed measuring tape took measurements on my chest and other places I was supposed to have curves. The seamstress, mercifully ignoring my distress and discomfort at the whole experience, worked hard to make it end quickly. However, after my measurements were taken I was forced to try on a huge range and styles of training bras. My skin hadn't stopped flushing bright red from the moment we walked in. Narcissa busied herself by picking me out a few dresses, and other things for the upcoming school year. Finally, we left, with parchment of my measurements, with a few handfuls of garment bags and a lighter coin pouch.

Before hitting the next store, we took a break to get some ice cream in stiff silence. Narcissa was less excited to shop at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, as it was lower class, but understood it had trendier stock for the younger generations. I picked out a few pants, knowing Jasper was an entire ocean away helpless to stop me but drew the line at the clear muggle inspired fashions. No need to poke an angry bear. Narcissa was looking at shoes when a high pitched squeal filled the air and my stomach immediately dropped recognizing the familiar, shrill cry. Two arms wrapped around my shoulders tightly, and the person jumped up and down in excitement. I could feel Narcissa's disapproving eye watch the scene unfold. This is exactly what I didn't want to happen today.

"Hello, Lavender," I smiled trying to hide my slight wince at the overdramatic hug when she ignored me for months when we lost all those points because the rest of the school was doing it and only was friendly again once we were a hot topic once more, "How has your summer been?"

Lavender ignored me and loudly waved over a middle-aged woman who looked just like her, "Mum! Mum! Come here! It's one of the kids I told you about."

Narcissa's scowling sharpened when she caught sight of Ms. Brown and judging how the pureblood family had never been invited to attend any pureblood events, I doubt she respected their family or the scene they were causing. Ms. Brown, loudly I might add, quickly made her way to me loudly chattering in a very 'Lavender' way making the half-full shop watch the interaction. Ms. Brown pulled me out of Lavender's hug to give me her own smushing me into her large chest which smelled strongly of perfume. Holding me at arm's length to look me over excitedly, she started to chatter, "Oh! Estelle Vaile, right? Your hair is much too sleek to be Hermione Granger. Oh, Lavender has told me everything. It's so interesting that four first years were able to save the day like that! Twice! No wonder Dumbledore likes your little friend group so much! But what can you expect from Gryffindor, am I right, Lavender? I was in Gryffindor too, you know."

I nodded feeling breathless unsure of how to respond to the intense woman staring at me like a juicy piece of gossip. Lavender made so much sense now. Her hands were still on my shoulders when Narcissa came up from behind us glaring at the eavesdroppers, and coldly flicked Ms. Brown's hands off me looking scandalized. Both of the older women's eyes narrowed when they met haughtily. Clearly, Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry goes beyond Hogwarts Graduation. Lavender looked at the snobby woman behind me with a frown and my blush deepened. So many eyes were on the stare down I was trapped in the middle of as if we were performing a play. Near silent whispers danced just out of earshot. Narcissa raised an eyebrow and smirked at the curly-haired witch, "Ah, Brown. What a.....lovely surprise. I see you haven't changed at all since Hogwarts."

"I could say the same about you, Black," Mrs. Brown glared back hotly before adding in a mocking tone, "Oh wait, it's Malfoy now, isn't it?"

"As much as I would love to play catch up with you, I'm afraid Estelle and I were just leaving," Narcissa said tightly pulling the clothes I picked from my arms to place back onto a rack, and angrily pulled me toward the door, "I must say it is impressive that you managed to create a daughter nearly as obnoxious as yourself."

"Narcissa, still a stuck up bitch," Mrs. Brown insulted Narcissa who just smirked pleased if anything at the insult which irked the woman more. Lavender, finally taking a moment to make the connection rather than focus on the catfight before her, gasped at me dramatically. Her expression could only be described as totally horrified.

Before the door swung shut behind us, Lavender's scandalized gasp slipped out, "Estelle is staying with Malfoy."

The warmth of my face remained as Narcissa snootily stalked her away through the streets with an intimidating enough aura that people were just about diving out of our way. Her hand was curled around my wrist as we approached the high-class tea room, unspokenly reserved for only the best of the wizarding world. Typically it took months to get into Mondeu's Tea Shop but she was Narcissa Malfoy. The moment we were inside the lilac painted building the chaotic buzz of Dragon Alley faded into the soft classical piano and polite, muted conversations humming in the air. A witch with light brown hair gracefully rushed to meet Narcissa in the foyer from her hostess stand and spread her arms welcomingly, "Ah. Lady Malfoy. It is always a pleasure to have you visit us. We readied your table the moment we received your letter. Please, follow me."

As we made our way through the spacious restaurant, the thoughts of fear about Lavender inevitably spread the news of my summer home around and the interested eyes watching us walk to the second level that was even more exclusive. Once we reached the reserved table the cool leather of the seat was all I had to ground me out of my swirling panic attack. Narcissa, without waiting for our actual waitress, barked out our tea order in a way that made the hostess scurry away quickly.

"Families like that shame the status of being pureblood. She's only gotten more uncouth since leaving Hogwarts. Her daughter seems just like her. Don't associate with that girl again. Understood, young lady?" Narcissa hissed out irritatedly, while a nervous-looking server laid out a tea set in the middle of the white table cloth-covered table. It was cream with magical birds flapping around the porcelain.

"She's one of my dorm mates, Ms. Malfoy," I bit my lip anxiously moving to stir some sugar into my tea, "I don't know if I could...."

"Well," She sniffed, taking a delicate sip of her tea, "Another reason your house is so shameful. Her mother certainly brought shame to her house with her....lively personality around the Hogwarts men. I find it shocking she even found a pureblood man to marry her, even if it was a Brown. As long as you behave like a lady and become more of a wallflower, you should find a strong match with your bloodline. Do you have any suitors in mind? It is never too early to start thinking of matches."

The warm tea spilling down my throat was violently stopped from the shock of her statement sending me into barely suppressed coughs. Using the white napkin in my lap to cover my mouth as I attempted to regain my breathing quietly, Narissa leaned back in shock at the physical response, "You have thought of your future, haven't you? Marriage is one of the most powerful choices you make in your life."

"But," I stumbled wide-eyed, "I'm only twelve."

"Well, yes but you must remember how I used to tell you and Draco you may be matched one day? I had half a mind to blend the last of the Vaile's into the Malfoy line before you dishonored yourself at Hogwarts. It is never too early to start thinking of such a thing in our world. Your mother picked a terrible match and it ended in her death," Narcissa stiffly responded, only pausing briefly to give our lunch orders to our server. I tried to push the ideas of how terrible my life would be if I was married to Draco. The idea seemed like a lifetime of torment and unhappiness.

"I thought my mother married for love," I responded weakly full of discomfort.

"Exactly my point. You need to be smarter than she was or you will end up just like her. Besides you really can grow to love anyone," Narcissa sniffed icily with the corners of her mouth pulling sourly at the thought of her best friend leaving her behind for a man, "I hope you aren't thinking of that Avery welp. But perhaps he may be your best option now. Draco says all the girls at school simper after him. They did that with his uncle too."

☾☾☾☾

"What are you doing?" Draco's voice pulled me away from the passage I was reading laying atop the lavish duvet using the last rays of daylight to see. The world was tainted with a purple shade from the sunset beyond the windows. The twittering of the songbirds in the aviary upstairs leaked into the room lightly through the vents. After a full day marching around Diagon Alley, I was peacefully relaxing in a short-sleeved sweater dress and pastel blue tights with my Merlin book cradled in my lap. I looked up to where Draco was leaning against the doorframe in his own leisurewear, and a Slytherin themed robe with a silver snake on the breast pocket. He wrinkled his nose and crossed the room to slam the music box shut with a grimace.

"I hate that thing. So creepy," Draco shook his head and padded softly to the end of my bed throwing himself across the foot. He glanced over at what I was doing and frowned, "When are you going to finish that book already? You know you can read more than a sentence a day right?"

"It's pretty big," I shrugged, closing it reluctantly placing it on the side table with a dull thud, "By the way, Lavender Brown saw us today. Everyone at school probably knows about me staying here by now."

"Ugh, she's worse than Weasley. So whiny," He curled his lip leaning up on his elbows to shoot me a long look with the roll of his eyes, "You do realize that everyone already knew about my parents watching you, right? You grew up here."

"I guess you are right," I trailed off softly looking at the purple sky.

"I know I'm right," He scoffed hotly and sharply changed topics, "Play chess with me."

"You always win. Doesn't it get boring?" I sighed but was already scooting to the side of the bed to follow him into the tea room next door. I never got a say. It was better to just go along, or invoke that Slytherin determination that normally ended with me crying.

"I like winning," He smirked already halfway out the door, "Maybe I'll let you win this time. You have gotten better since last summer."

"Ron made me play a lot last year. You should play against him one day. He's really good," I spoke without thinking, chuckling to myself about the chess trail to get the stone.

"Have you gone mad?" Draco gagged with a shutter, "Why would I waste my time on that filth? The farther that traitor is from me the better. I can barely handle you."

☾☾☾☾

-July 15th-

The swell of summer was almost entirely suffocated by the gloomy nature of Malfoy Manor but with the sun shining down onto my skin with songbirds lazily tweeting at each other you could make out the whispers of the season. The garden, my heartbeat, and the twang of the bow were all that I needed for this brief moment of bliss. I had started to make my arrows hit the target a little more but still had a farm, far way to go. Narcissa even spoke of talking to Uncle Jasper to hire an instructor to evolve me out of self-taught mistakes. It probably had to do with Draco's new interest in it.

"Almost," I softly sighed as the arrow bounced off the wooden legs of the target with a thud. My fingers busied themselves knocking another arrow into place, waiting for the soft breeze that blew a strand of hair into my face. Just as I was about to release the arrow, I heard the heavy footsteps of a small group of people coming up behind me.

"Just ignore them," I whispered to myself almost pleadingly trying to slip back into focus. My aim and focus had evaporated with the uncomfortable stares and snickers against my back. With a near-silent whistle, the arrow flew from my bow and passed the target to the small stretch of grass behind it littered with similar attempts. A roar of laughter was born from my failed shot sending me into thick, hot embarrassment.

Draco, Crabb, Goyle, and Pansy stood in a messy line nearly doubled over in laughter. Daphne must be in some lesson again. She was trying to learn Russian now. My skin warmed at their mocking laughter and I tried to straighten my quivering frown. Each muscle in my body tensed as they lazily strolled toward me.

"When are you going to realize you are just as hopeless at this as you are in school?" Draco cockily asked me thrilled with the response I offered them.

"That thing is better off in the trash. Just like you!" Pansy eagerly joined in with the boy next to her pointing at the bow. Another round of laughter inspired her to reach over and pinch my arm roughly. A small yelp came from my mouth before I jumped out of her grip.

"Gimme that!" Crabb thundered, ripping the bow out of my hands.

"No!" I cried reaching out for the bow. Narcissa made me swear I would take pristine care of her childhood bow when she gave me the slick, black wooden weapon. Crabb held it over his head, letting me jump up for it desperately. Draco's smile couldn't have been wider watching me plead for the wood. Angry tears started to gather at the edges of my eyes and started to drip like balls of crystal with each hop.

"You are such a crybaby!" Pansy sneered through her laughter, "Some Gryffindor you are! So embarrassing!"

"Leave me alone! I wasn't bothering you!" My voice quivered only being cut off when Goygle reached over and roughly pushed me down to the ground. I landed with a harsh thud feeling a rough pain on my knee. The skin was broken and stained from the dirt it landed against.

"Stupid blood traitor," Goygle said as if it explained why he needed to shove me down like that. My tears only doubled from the pain of my scraped knee.

"Haha! Yeah," Crabb said before his eyes suddenly lit up and his lips curved into a smirk. Before anyone had a chance to understand what he was doing, he brought the black bow down onto his knee snapping it with a sharp splintering sound. Draco's laughter halted violently taking in the sight of the broken bow now thrown in front of me on the grass. The others, however, thought it was the funniest thing.

Well, until the furious shout boomed across the garden, "Draco Malfoy! You better have a good excuse on why my bow is broken!"

Narcissa Malfoy's face was twisted up in anger as she made her way across the small grass patch straying from her typical strolling path with angry eyes and thinning lips. Draco's face paled at the sight of his angry mother and turned to his friend angrily, "You moron! That was my mother's!"

"Young man! How dare you come into my home and disrespect it like this!" Narcissa hissed down at a cowering Crabb who looked dumbly from the bow, to tear-streaked me, to the angry witch. Her silver eyes scanned the scene before her pausing slightly at me crying on the ground to glare sharply at a terrified Draco, before turning back to the thick boy in question with one hand on her hip and another pointing angrily, "Explain yourselves!"

"I, uh, didn't know it was yours, Mrs. Malfoy," Crabb said, sounding thicker than ever.

"Why would you break another person's possessions like a common thug regardless?" Narcissa seethed reaching down and picking up the now two parted wooden mess angrily. There was a small amount of sadness in her eyes as she gazed down at the sentimental object in ruin. Pointing back toward the main house, she pursed her lips, "Everyone, inside! I'm flooing each of your parents."

"Mum! Please!" Draco pleaded looking embarrassed that his mother was scolding his friends, "We were just messing with Estelle."

"You!" She hissed, "You better think of a good excuse for your father before I tell him."

"No! Please don't tell father!" Draco pleaded.

"Inside! All of you! I will not be asking again!" Narcissa shouted, sending each of the Slytherin children into a quiet, and fear-driven pace up to the main house glancing at each other with worry. Halfway up to the house, Draco reached over and shoved Crabb's shoulder roughly with his mouth moving quickly and angrily. Pansy was the only one who looked back to glare at me.

"You promised me that you would be able to handle the responsibility of taking care of my things, Estelle," Narcissa frowned at me sounding noticeably less angry. It sounded more sorrowful. Her eyes flicked to my bleeding knee, which softened her gaze slightly.

"I tried but they are so much bigger than me," I blubbered, scared I was going to be blamed for her precious bow being broken.

"Did you antagonize them?" She asked, trying to figure out the situation before she interrupted.

"I don't think so," I cried feeling like the biggest coward in the world, "I was just practicing when they started messing with me. You said if I kept improving I might start taking lessons with a real instructor."

"I see," She frowned before sighing tightly, "Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry goes back far beyond your year. Go inside. This needs sorting."

One by one my classmates left the manor through the floo in the main entrance way. I was sitting in the middle of the staircase, waiting to be called on by Narcissa. Each time one of them left I was sent a nasty glare. The echoing chamber was alive with their annoyance that their torment backfired. My fingers picked lightly at the black carpet lining the dark wooden stairs eyeing the end of my lavender sundress stained with a small amount of blood from my knee. A word wasn't spoken until the familiar figure of Aunt Fiona Greengrass-Crabb strutted into the foyer with her eyes set on me. The familiar fear around my aunt blanketed me as I forced my eyes to my shoes. Long, dark strands of hair slipped from my shoulders falling in front of my eyes. Maybe she won't notice me. Please just go to the floo.

The beating of my heart quickened in tune with the stomping steps of her feet passing the grand marble fireplace straight toward my tiny body. If my body could have hunched into the ground more, the dark carpet would fuse into me. Through my eyelashes, I saw a pleased looking Crabb trailing behind her. My head snapped up in terror when I saw her reach for her wand scrambling to crawl up the staircase away from her now almost running pace. My body wasn't quick enough and the tip of her wand pressed me into the stairs. The cold tip dug into my chest forcefully. Even if they were fraternal twins, the snarling face twisted into angry hatred of my aunt was too similar to my late mother to not focus on it.

"You waste of magic!" She hissed pressing her wand harder into my chest. If it wasn't so rigid the grey wood would have snapped under her angry hand.

"You are just like my foul twin. I knew from the moment you were born we should have just tossed you into a bloody river and been done with it! How dare you get my son into trouble! Narcissa was always fooled by my stupid, perfect sister just like you! Apologize to him before I turn you into a rat and feed you to your mangy cat," She snarled not moving the wand from my heaving chest from fearful ragged breaths. The sound of footsteps was running toward us quickly but the enraged gaze of Fiona forbade me from looking away. Fear was encompassing my entire being too harshly to speak.

"You insolent little-!" Fiona was cut off by perfectly manicured hands pulling her away from her spot over me giving me the chance to scramble up the stairs away from the tip of her nearly sparking wand.

"Get out of my home, Fiona!" Narcissa barked at her old classmate with her own wand out who turned to her with a snarl, "And teach your son some respect! Unless you want the ministry to arrest you for magic against a minor I suggest you put away that wand and leave at once."

There was a tense moment, with Crabb, myself, and Draco who had trailed in behind his mother exchanging glances tensely wondering if the two women were going to start flinging curses at one another. My blue eyes locked with Draco's silver eyes that were wide with worried terror. The situation was too tense to question the rare moment of compassion from the Slytherin Prince. Like a curtain falling, the two affluent women lowered their wands letting the tense, suffocating air hang between them. It was Fiona who broke their intense stair down to glare at me.

"One day," She seethed, "I will get the satisfaction I missed from your whore mother. One day, I will make sure, Dirty Spawn, that-."

"Fiona, she is not her mother. She is not Cordelia," Narcissa warned tightly to the woman who merely turned on her heel, grabbing her round, bewildered son, and disappeared from the room with a loud pop. No one spoke for a long stretch letting the silence and shadows seem to grow from the corners of the room. Even the stiff looking portraits didn't dare to speak. Narcissa was the one who broke the silence and it was as if nothing had even happened. She peered at me with a disconnected, cold tone and nodded in the direction of my room, "Clean up. Supper will begin soon. You will not be dining with us covered in dirt and blood like you are now."

And with that, she turned and quickly left the room as fast as she entered it. It wasn't until his mother left the room that Draco walked across the grand room slowly toward my shocked body. When I still didn't move from my terrified spot Draco moved up the stairs and, limbs heavy from discomfort kneeled next to me. Four children could have sat comfortably on the long step and the pureblood took advantage of the spacious structure by sitting as far as possible. His silver eyes peered at me full of worry, and harshly inquired, "Did your Aunt Fiona...curse you? Move, idiot!"

I ignored him and looked where my furious Aunt once stood. What was she going to do? Was she going to come back? Hesitantly, He reached out and shook my shoulder roughly, "Snap out of it, Vaile. Are you a Gryffindor or not?"

"She was going to curse me," I wheezed out breathlessly to the boy beside me forgetting about our feud for the moment. He scanned me once more, with clear discomfort and worry. A long silence fell before he finally spoke again reaching out and placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" He bit his lip, "I'm sure my father wouldn't invite you to be our guest and not protect you."

"Why would he?" My body finally moved from the hurried movement of me throwing my head into my hands nearly knocking Draco's awkward hand off my shoulder from the jerkiness of it, "She's going to kill me, Draco! What if she comes back?"

Draco had no idea what to say as my chest started to quicken from short, fast breaths. Neither of us had ever experienced anything like that before. As dark as our families supposedly were they made sure violence and threats like that were just something of stories to their small children. The bubble of childhood safety was finally busted in one moment. It didn't matter if we were children to people like Fiona. Blood ties were deeper than petty bullying.

In his moment of terrifying uncertainty, he fell back into his shield of arrogance but for once it wasn't aimed at me. For a minuscule blip in our relationship, he reverted back to the sweet boy I grew up beside, and in his eyes, I was the girl he played with once more rather than a Gryffindor traitor. Puffing up his small, child chest, and using his hand on my shoulder to make me look at him he furrowed his brows, "Crabb's mother's mental. My parents won't let her sneak in. They are far too powerful."

"But-but," I stuttered fearfully surprised at my lack of tears, "What if-."

"Stop blabbering, Vaile," Malfoy rolled his eyes, pausing when we made eye contact seeing the full scope of fear radiating in my eyes. Awkwardly and full of uncertainty, he pulled me into a tight hug. If him hugging me was shocking, it wasn't nearly as shocking as the way my arms instantly wrapped around him just as tightly. My fear drank the rare moment of compassion and concern eagerly without pausing to think of the monster Draco had been for the past year especially. It reminded me of the nights filled with crashes of thunder and lightning curled up in one of our beds faced together as a team.

Pulling back, Draco's face was red with embarrassment. His body was standing before I had time to even think about what had just happened and he was sneering down at me, "If you ever tell anyone that I was nice to you, I'll hex all your hair off."

His tiny, pale body flew up the stairs toward our separate rooms leaving me sitting on the stairs before I had a chance to respond. Fear was fighting a gruesome war against confusion in my chest. Why would I tell anyone I hugged...Draco? That's reason enough to comply with his weak threat. From that moment on, I swore that I would never tell anyone that Draco Malfoy was the one who comforted me when my Aunt tried to attack me. I definitely wouldn't tell anyone that later that night before bed there was a bronze tin of sweets, with the letters D.M. engraved on the clasp sitting on my pillow. No, no one needed to know about this. It was our little secret.

☾☾☾☾

(Please comment if you enjoyed this chapter! I love writing the awkward tween energy. It's left out of fanfictions too often. Like, please make me cringe. More to come soon!- Caroline)


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Diagon Alley

-August 19th-

Draco’s rare moment of kindness ended up being just that. A rare moment. The rest of July was particularly difficult with Draco grounded from seeing his friends for breaking his Mother’s childhood bow. The bratty boy either spent his time teasing me mercilessly or forcing me to keep him company, which often led to him complaining about my friends or Dumbledore. But the most insufferable thing about the end of summer was the dancing lessons Narcissa forced us to practice with each other. Draco purposely stepped on my toes and pinched my back when Naricassa wasn’t looking. He thought it was hilarious. The pale skin of my back was dotted with purple fingerprint marks. The skin of my lips had a small welt from the sheer amount of times I had to bite my lip to keep my mouth shut when he pulled my hair.

Letters from America had come a few times telling the process of Astoria’s treatments, which sounded downright gruesome. They took as much of her blood as possible in one sitting without risking her health, treated it for the curse as much as possible, and then infused her with as much as her body would accept. Her tone of positivity, although clearly forced sometimes, made my heart swell with happiness. The little girl contained one of the most alive spirits that made her deadly condition so unbearable. Daphne and I exchanged words over Astoria on the few times she visited Malfoy Manor with Pansy once Draco was no longer grounded.

It was the start of August when The Malfoy’s decided I could send letters to Jareth on account of my perfectly performed ladylike behavior. His words of sarcasm and humor were frequently the best part of my days. While his family was just as unbearable as my own, the Ravenclaw had long given up on winning their love and merely spent his days messing with his brother or flooing to his friend's house. I couldn’t help but be jealous of the freedom he had outside of Hogwarts. 

As September inched closer, my stress levels rose more and more. Everything inside of me was twisted into corkscrews of uncertainty. With the upcoming school year inching closer and closer the excitement of returning to the warmth and safety of my scarlet house and controversial friends. My family expects me to abandon my house and friends but after everything I’ve experienced with them, their expectations felt impossible. It was written in the stars that I was going to disappoint them. Was I born just to be the thorn in their side?

The Gryffindor house residents were the first people who made me feel real joy and love in all my life. They never looked down on me or shunned me for my blood. As stressed as I was to be thrown back into the situation that caused so much distance between myself and the people I grew up with, I couldn’t help but be excited to melt back into the warm serenity of Hogwarts life where I only had to worry about passing Transfiguration and my other classes.

I just had to make sure nothing I did was interesting enough for Daphne to write home about. There was no pressure suffocating me to have perfectly styled hair or neat, dirt-free dresses. It was easier. Far, far easier than grappling with the realities of being the worst disappointment to the only family not yet stolen from me. Everything in me begged for their unconditional love and support but maybe it’s a fool’s dream for someone like me. The only thing I could do in hopes of earning affection is to be the best pureblood girl I can manage as a Gryffindor.

Truly, I tried my best to convince myself I could distance myself from my friends for the feelings of my family and the integrity they cherish. Lists and reasons filled my head on why becoming a loner would bring everyone happiness. But they felt brittle and weak against the happiness I found at Hogwarts. Still, I had the expectations and facts my Uncle wished of me playing on a loop in my conflicted head.

These well-repeated facts soared out my head as I gazed down on Flourish and Blotts first floor wild with students and parents buzzing around for textbooks and a good spot to look at the latest wizarding heartthrob, Gilderoy Lockhart when my eyes caught on a familiar group of wizards with bright, orange hair entering the shop. The cozy, well-loved attire and relaxed mannerisms of the family felt almost alien to my eyes after spending the summer surrounded by stiffly tailored, perfectly behaved purebloods. Ron’s face looked overwhelmed and a bit concerned as he looked at the fawning crowd. I even think he rolled his eyes at a woman fanning herself with a multiple headshots of Lockhart. 

The fleeting freedom from the Malfoy's judgmental glare felt like a sign of fate to say hello to people that repulse the high society family. The floral sundress adorned with a spotless white-collar and perfectly puffed sleeves that Narcissa approved of felt embarrassing compared to the casual clothes of Ron’s family. I had to look equally superior to the average wizards as the Malfoys because when we walked down the busy streets they wanted people to be able to know at a glance they were important. It had been a long day, with Draco pitching countless fits resulting in whatever he wished.

Despite the chaotic lower floor, the energy around me was the most relaxing thus far today without their eyes on me like a hawk. Lucius and Draco had left Narcissa and me in Madam Malkin’s to wait for the uniform robes to be tailored to her liking. Her son deserved perfectly fitting uniforms, especially since he was in the greatest house at Hogwarts. Eventually, she simply sent me down the street to start fighting the crowd for our textbooks, as if they weren’t available in an already put together bundle for each year at the register. No one was around to scold me from rushing down the stairs and using my small frame to weave in and out of the crowd toward the lanky ginger and my impulses took full advantage of that fact. 

“Ron! Ron!” I cried happily throwing my arms around him from behind him. His lanky body was taller and stiffened under the sudden embrace not realizing who I was. Maybe I should have waited to hug him until I was in front of him. The skeleton hiding in his skin nearly jumped out from the unexpected hug.

“What the bloody-!” Ron started in horrified shock but was cut off by his older brothers. 

“Estelle!” Fred and George greeted each reaching over, while getting jostled from the thick crowd, to give me a friendly side hug.

A full summer of growth helped me keep a pink flush from spreading across my cheeks when George leaned over to give me a friendly hug. I could tell they noticed the fact I wasn’t wearing my school robes like they were over their sweaters. My robes have been collecting dust since the last time I saw them. I didn’t even want to imagine Jasper or Narcissa’s face if I was blazé enough to don my Gryffindor robes in their presence. 

“Worried those Malfoys were going to do something nasty to you,” George nodded. School-girl butterflies fluttered in my stomach at his, clearly platonic, expression of concern. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

“Wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn't of seen you that night,” Fred shrugged as if that deeply, deeply embarrassing moment was just the average visit. My face warmed hotly and turned back to Ron, who got knocked over slightly from an older witch rushing to get a spot in the queue. 

“Bloody hell, this place is mental, Elle,” Ron grumbled, “Saw Hermione a bit ago. She went to go find Harry. Mum thinks he went one floo too far.” 

“Harry’s with you?” I frowned peering around as if I could see past the thick crowd with a sigh, “I’m so behind. Good thing none of you owl’d me though. My Uncle would have lost it. Wait, what about The Dursleys? Isn’t he suppose to be with them for holiday?”

“Busted him out,” Fred and George said proudly crossing their arms. The tips of my hair brushed my upper arm from the movement of my head tilting ever so slightly. Their smirks were saturated with mischief and excitement. You could nearly taste it radiating off of them in the air. 

“Mum almost killed us for it,” Ron breathed, “Made us degnome the garden.” 

“You be thankful it wasn’t more!” A matronly tone came up beside us. Molly Weasley, with a small red-haired girl trailing behind her shyly, adjusted the used books in her arms and nudged her way next to Ron. The warning look she sent her sons was perfected from frequent use. If she noticed the humiliation oozing off of me because of her first, late-night impression of me, she brushed it away with a warm smile and a welcoming nod, “Estelle, Dear! It’s so good to see you. How are you doing? I’ve been awfully worried about you in that house.” 

“Mrs. Weasley, I’m so, so sorry for intruding like that! I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so embarrassed,” I blubbered covering my reddening face with a hand. Molly simply shooed my hands away and tutted slightly. 

“Don’t apologize for a thing,” Molly smiled. Ron’s mother’s warmth chased away all the embarrassment like lighting up an old attic, “Are you here alone?”

“Ms. Malfoy is waiting for our uniforms to be tailored and sent me here,” I explained, feeling a small pull of embarrassment at the posh statement, “I’m not really sure where Draco or his father went off to.” 

Before anyone had a chance to comment on the casual mention of that family, Molly flew toward a soot-covered boy being led by a walking mane of curls, “Oh, Harry! Thank goodness! We’d hoped you’d only gone one grate too far!” 

My eyes met Ron’s who rolled his eyes at his mother’s chronic mothering. From behind Molly frantically was giving Harry a look over, Hermione’s face lit up at the sight of me and we both rushed to reunite in a warm hug. The comfort of being around the Weasley Clan only grew warmer as I wrapped my arms around my best friend.

After weeks of tiptoeing around eerily halls and rooms to avoid conflict, the easy-going atmosphere felt like I was breathing for the first time since I left the train. Malfoy Manor’s draining energy was cleansed instantly from my mind from being surrounded by my found-family. Hermione’s arms pushed out all those anxieties leaching onto my soul like parasites. Frizzy, honey curls tickled my nose as we pulled apart from each other with girlish giggles falling from our mouths dancing in the air. Hermione’s silly, schoolgirl self was normally locked away tightly behind a lock made from her intelligence and drive but around her best friend, it leaked out a little in times like this. I wonder if you could see my entire jaw from the way my grin stretched from ear to ear.

My thoughts felt fuzzy and slightly dizzy as I admitted, “I’ve missed being roommates. I even missed you complaining about my mess.” 

“I have not missed your messes,” Hermione playfully responded before looking back at the clearly out of place and uncomfortable couple behind her. Their features were so obviously Hermione’s but looked less uncomfortable at the sight of their daughter waving them over. A voice full of excitement, my best friend pulled me toward the couple walking up to us, “Come meet my parents. I’ve told them all about you. They can't wait to meet you!” 

“Wait,” I whispered, pulling her back slightly as they got closer to us.

Her face fell in confusion slightly. Her eyebrows pulled together wrinkling her brow. Nerves slowly started to appear over the excitement and frowned lightly, “You do want to meet them, right?”

“I’ve never met a muggle before. How do I say hello? I don’t want to offend your parents, Hermione! I don’t know muggle manners,” I quickly whispered as they came up to us. Hermione suddenly broke out in a small giggle. Jasper said muggles were barbaric and barely evolved from animals but he seemed to be wrong about a lot. 

“Mum, Dad,” Hermione smiled at them, who both seemed to calm at the sight of their excited child, gesturing to me, “This is Estelle Vaile. She’s my best friend.” 

“Hermione, you’ve talked enough about her for us to know who she is,” Mr. Granger chuckled, holding a hand out for me to shake, I think. I reached across the space between us and lightly shook his hand tensely. What if I was supposed to do something else? Hermione gave me absolutely no advice about this! What if they make Hermione stop talking to me? 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Estelle,” Mrs. Granger smiled, exposing her pristine teeth. It was impossible not to smile back at the perfectly normal but clearly proud parents. 

“The pleasure is mine,” My being slipped back into my etiquette lessons instinctively, “I’ve never had the honor of meeting…dentarts before.” 

It was my best guess and judging by the chuckles of the Granger family dentarts was not the correct title. Hermione simply shook her head and corrected me, “Dentist, Elle.” 

“Apologizes,” I winced knowing my pale skin was doing no favors at hiding the blush of embarrassment. Always the hero, Harry walked up to our little semicircle and pulled me into a happy hug, “Estelle, good to see you.” 

Mrs. Weasley was quick to introduce herself to Hermione’s parents. The small group of parents was quick to bubble into a humorous conversation about all the trouble our little group got into last year. I’m not too sure Hermione’s parents understood the gravity of Voldemort though. How could they? Or is this just me being prejudiced? They could have read the same books Hermione did before she arrived at Hogwarts. 

“Harry!” I bristled at the soot transferred on my clothes from our hug, “You’re filthy. Ms. Malfoy is going to have my head.” 

My hands did their best to brush off the ash from my dress but it just rubbed deeper into the fabric. The puff sleeves were the worst from where I wrapped my arms around him tightly. I forced myself to worry about it later when I spotted Hermione, Ron, and Harry’s collective wince at my statement. I frowned, waving my hands frantically, "I'm not mad though, Harry. It was just a mistake. I'm just worried about Ms. Malfoy." 

"I know, Elle," Harry smiled, happy to be reunited with our group, "Sounds like your summer was about as relaxing as mine." 

“Have you been alright? Ron wrote to me when he found out,” Hermione frowned reaching over and helping me brush off the dirt from my expensive sundress, which was easy considering how quickly the already full shop was filling up, “I mean, I almost wrote you myself.” 

“Sounds like a nightmare spending the summer holiday with a git like Malfoy,” Ron shuttered dramatically, with the others nodding in agreement. 

“It’s been..,” I trailed off softly not knowing what to say and feeling nauseous breaching the topic of my home life with them, “Alright, I guess. Harry, what about your family?” 

“Pretty brutal till Ron and his brothers saved me,” Harry responded with a pleased smile, “You and Hermione should have seen the look on my uncle’s face when he saw a flying car pulled up next to the window!”

“There were bars on his window!” Ron gasped at us filling us in on the detail Harry glossed over, “Never thought I’d be thankful for my crummy room.” 

“Bars?” I gasped in shock.

Hermione must have already gotten the story from letters judging from the lack of surprise in her reaction to the horrific statement. The crowd of the bookstore was hot from the close quarters and had everyone shoulder to shoulder. My nose would have been brushing the top of the witch’s bum in front of me if I had to stand any closer. I couldn’t wait until I was a little taller to avoid awkward face level views. 

A loud voice from the front of the shop sent everyone around us, including Ms. Weasley and Hermione, into an excited flutter, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart.” 

“There he is,” Ginny, who I still need to meet formally, breathed barely eligible over the applause of the crowd.

Countless witches, and a handful of wizards, were fiercly slamming their hands together at the sight of the blonde man in fashionable blue robes who loved the attention openly. Those robes was the latest fashion. Narcissa gave me a few witch weekly’s and other fashion magazines before we went shopping last time. Muted tones were very popular right now.

I wonder if Dumbledore knew his iconic light blue robes were such a big trend this season. The vision of Dumbledore standing before a mirror twirling in his silvery-blue robes to admire himself with a Witch Weekly in hand made me laugh brightly to myself. Fred and George gave me a strange look amused and joined me in my laughter after I quickly explained. 

“Imagine Snape’s face if he walked in on that,” Fred hissed with a voice tight from the effort of suppressing our giggles. 

Lockhart gave the glimmering smile Witch Weekly loves to fawn over in every issue and waved at the crowd with as much charm as humanly possible. It reminded me of this French wizard trying to flirt with Daphne two years ago while we were on vacation. He had been riddled with acne and wore way too much cologne to the point it followed him around in an invisible cloud. The vision of her popping an annoyed eyebrow and pouring her tea on his head before strutting off is something I’ll never forget.

Molly frantically started using her free hand to pat down her messy hair swooning over Lockhart, much like most of the girls around him. Astoria had a small crush on him but moved on to an American quidditch player recently, as told from her letters. Daphne thought he was too ditsy to find attractive and I couldn’t help but agree watching the way he was waving to his fans.

Ron smirked and leaned over to Harry and I cheekily, “Mum fancies him.” 

Molly barely looked away long enough to swat her youngest son before beaming back at the man. Hermione was in a similar state of awe. Pansy wouldn’t shut up about him this summer. But there had to be a good reason for all the hype, right? He’s very accomplished. He’s been awarded an Order of Merlin.

“Excuse me, little girl,” A rude man said as he pushed past me making me stumble into the witch in front of me to avoid getting hit in the head with his massive camera, “This is for the Daily Prophet.”

Lockhart smiled brightly posing for the cameraman like a fish taking to water when he froze and gasped dramatically peering at the spot behind me in the crowd, “It can’t be- Harry Potter?”

“Harry Potter!” The cameraman said raspily and knocked me over again to grab Harry and pull him to the front of the room. 

Harry’s face was like a deer caught in headlights. Or an awkward kid forced into the spotlight. He stumbled next to Lockhart, seemingly dazed from the rapid attention, who pulled him into his side to pose. Ron and I glanced at each other wincing. The discomfort was all you could see when you looked at Harry. 

“Nice big smile, Harry. Together you and I make the front page!” Lockhart ordered excitedly before addressing the whispering room, “Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is. When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts this morning to purchase my autobiography, ‘Magical Me’ which, incidentally is currently celebrating its 27th week atop the Daily Prophet bestseller list, he had no idea that he would, in fact, be leaving with my entire collected works, free of charge.” 

After roughly shoving a stack of books into Harry’s arms and pushing him back out of the spotlight, Lockhart smiled at the women in the front row sitting down to sign his fan’s copies, “Now, ladies?” 

Molly Weasley was nearly hyperventilating from joy and took the stack of books from Harry on top of her own pile. The stack threatened to fall from her arms but determination held them in her overwhelmed grasp, “Give me those, and I’ll get them signed. All of you wait outside.” 

Even if she wasn’t addressing me, I didn’t need to be told twice to leave the overwhelming madhouse of a bookshop. Hermione waved me off entranced by her crush only a few witches away in line. Her parents were now wrapped up in an exciting conversation with Mr. Weasley about their career. 

Rolling his eyes, Ron led us to where his older brothers stood in the calmer, emptier entrance of the shop near a stand about a collection of books on different molds for potions. It didn’t seem very popular despite the recently released sign. My breathing felt less tight away from all those pushy people. Even if I thought Lockhart was very talented, I don’t think I could handle waiting in line to get my textbooks autographed. Maybe I could for The Weird Sisters. I love their music. They're so cool. 

“I’ll bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” Draco’s familiar antagonistic voice broke out from his spot on the stairs, and with each step, he took closer to us my heart sank a little more. The voice that had been pestering me for weeks felt like an attack on my ears. He rolled his eyes at me and lightly pushed me to the side with arrogance before coming eye to eye with his sworn rival barely hiding the jealous element in his jab with the joy of finally being able to mock the kid he’s been complaining about nonstop, “Famous Harry Potter! Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.”

Before anyone had a chance to say a rebuttal or even decided if I wanted to bring up how long he spent on his hair this morning, Ginny stepped forward and glowered at the taller boy, “Leave him alone.”

Draco’s lips twisted into a smirk at the upcoming first-year glaring up at him from a head below him amused. The perfect material for countless insults just fell right into his lap. From behind him, my heart sank at the sight of Lucius quickly approaching the small group. Unaware of his unamused but slightly interested father creeping up behind him, he mocked Harry gleefully, “Oh look, Potter. You’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

With a thud, a silver snake head embossed with shiny emeralds for eyes sank on Draco’s shoulder. Draco’s hair would have whipped from the speed his head twisted to see his father frowning at him lightly if his hair wasn’t gelled neatly into place.

“Now, now Draco, play nicely,” Silver eyes slid away from his son and narrowed at the sight of me slightly hiding behind Harry. Deciding I can wait, Lucius slid forward to peer down at Harry with cold curiosity offering a hand for Harry to shake, “Mr. Potter. Lucius Malfoy. We meet at last.”

“Forgive me,” His voice was cold and uncaring as he roughly pulled Harry close enough to use his cane to pull Harry’s fringe away from his famous scar, “Your scar is legend, as, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you.”

Out the corner of my eye, I noticed Hermione walk up beside me glaring at Lucius and Draco. Despite the small quiver of his Adam’s apple, Harry stated as he ripped himself out of Lucius' grip on his arm to step back, “Voldemort killed my parents. He was nothing more than a murderer.”

“Hm,” Lucius hummed half-heartedly, “You must be very brave, to mention his name…or very foolish.”

“Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself,” Hermione’s voice called attention to herself in her intelligent tone. Part of me wanted to grab her and pull her away from his sight knowing the terrible things he’s said about muggleborns. My body was frozen in place, however. 

“And, you must be…Ms. Granger?” Lucius pondered looking to Draco who nodded in a confirmation which was all he needed to twitch his lips in a nearly unnoticeable sneer, “Yes, Draco’s told me all about you and your parents. Muggles, aren’t they?”

Hermione stiffed from beside me, and I wanted to reach over and squeeze her hand in case he freely spoke his opinion on her bloodline. Lucius lost interest in playing with the muggleborn child quickly and scanned the large amount of lanky, redheads smirking, “Let me see red hair, vacant expressions, tatty second-hand book. You must be the Weasleys.”

Lucius gazed at the used textbook he pulled from Ginny’s cauldron with disdain, as Mr. Weasley walked up to the ground not noticing the blond man toying with his children. Ignorant of the tense energy, Mr. Weasley smiled warmly at his kids gesturing to the door, “Children, it’s mad in here! Let’s go outside.” 

Lucius’ cold eyes lit up at someone to toy with that was his own age, and drawled, “Well, well, well. Weasley senior.” 

All the warmth of the man vanished and he nodded without any trace of friendliness, “Lucius.”

“Busy time at the Ministry, Arthur, all those extra raids? I do hope they’re paying you overtime, but judging by the state of this, I’d say not,” Lucius curled his lip at the books he stole out of Ginny’s cauldron and mocked icily, “What’s the use in being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

“We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,” Mr. Weasley stepped closer to the man without breaking his stony expression. The air was tense as the men stared at each other. For a moment, I wondered if Mr. Weasley was going to throw a punch at the man.

Appearing to lose interest in his game, Lucius dropped the ratty boots back in the cauldron before tutting in disapproval, “Clearly. Associating with Muggles… and I thought your family could sink no lower. I’ll see you at work.” 

Following his father who was walking back out to the busy streets of Diagon Alley, Draco antagonized Harry with a sneer, “See you at school.” 

Draco slid past his father who was staring at me tensely. His nostrils flared. Using his gloved hand to point the tip of his expensive cane at me cowering behind Harry, “Hardly surprising that you snuck off. Let’s go.” 

“See you all on the train,” I gulped, stumbling to trail after the fuming man. Hermione reached out and tried to hold me back with a hand on my shoulder. I peered back, as quickly as possible, and gave her pleading eyes, “I have to go. Please don’t make a scene. I’m alright.” 

Hermione, very reluctantly, stepped back and bit her lip as I walked up to the badly concealed furious man. My small frame passed him in the doorway and his leather-gloved hand latched onto my shoulder tightly. Steering me away from my friends, Lucius mockingly tutted down at me, “Wrong decision, girl.”


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Return to Hogwarts

The two weeks after the brief reunion of my friends before September 1st was spent in another stretch of forced isolation from Lucius and Narcissa in response to catching me socializing with my housemates. Each day was both easier and harder than the days trapped in my room at Greengrass Estate. Days hidden away in the gloom of the guest room dished out less stress than tiptoeing around the manor attempting to be nothing more than another shadow gathering in the corner of the room. There was no loss of affection between Lucius to mourn, and barely any from Narcissa. Well, only affection I wished she had for me. Those lack of emotions prevented a long lecture and was replaced by a sharp slap across the face and banishment with Bernie to my temporary quarters. Seeing me with my friends wasn’t anything they weren’t already expecting from me. There was no hurt from the disappointment like Uncle Jasper. It was almost like they were bored I did exactly what they thought I would. The shadowy manor could hide much around corners and in little hiding spots but my bedroom hid no surprises. If someone was entering the room, I could ready myself by the time the door swung open on its creaky hinges.

This ordered confinement proved to be more difficult, simply because it wasn’t home. It wasn’t my bed and none of my things were here to distract my idle mind. Everything in my possession was taken away from me last time but it was still my safe bedroom. Bernie was, luckily, the most comforting part like last time. Except for this time, he wasn’t worrying himself over my zombie state, and let himself be his true sloth self. While lazy and slightly grumpy, he was the perfect companion for long days alone. Letter writing privileges were provoked, obviously. Jareth was popular enough he probably didn’t even notice my letters stopped. He mentioned he had two different secret admirers right now. Honesty I didn’t even try to see if that was still an option. My actions only landed me on thinner and thinner ice since I started school. I tried my best to keep my mind off the fact Lucius wrote a letter to Jasper about what happened in Diagon Alley. Clearly, I had no self-control around my friends to follow the wishes of my family who keep insisting they have my best interest at heart. 

Draco managed to weasel his way into my room a few times but it was pretty boring to mess with me when all I did was read over my summer work and finish the book on Merlin. His teasing about the mistakes on my homework was actually helpful, not that he realized he was helping me earn a better grade, but maybe it was his way of helping. He was…hard to understand. I wasn’t very bright in a few of my subjects and my lacking confidence only made my performance worse. I’d have to get Jareth or Hermione to look over my work before I submit it to make sure I don’t fail before the semester starts. 

The various house elves of Malfoy Manor were the highlight of my day. Those little creatures made me laugh more than anything, mostly unintentionally. Dobby and Gilly were both very intense about making sure I adjusted to the punishment well since I was their favorite witch. It wasn’t exactly difficult to do sadly. I just said thank you a few times and asked how their self inflicted injuries were healing. Admittedly, I wasn’t the rare case of a child raised in wealth hesitating to give orders to the servants. House elves have prevented me from learning a lot of life skills simply from doing it for me. Without them, I’d be just as lost as Draco or Pansy. But at least I didn’t treat them like vermin, or call them names. Dobby always made sure to bring a little dish of catnip to Bernie every afternoon alongside the daily comic section. Gilly took extra care in packing away my luggage the night before we left for the express and left out a comfortable traveling outfit for the train journey. It wasn’t pants, which most people would assume would be the best thing to wear for a travel day. Jasper was a touch… old fashioned when it came to women in pants. Narcissa agreed from the way she guided me away from all of the trousers I selected. Hermione’s voice mumbled in the back of my head about equality and the ridiculousness of the rule. She wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t pants but it was a black skirt, with sewn-in shorts. I think Hermione said muggles call them skorts and said muggles thought it up a few decades ago. If you ask me muggles are brilliant. Ever since meeting Hermione's parents I’ve been more and more curious about muggleborns.

The next day I stood next to Draco, who kept glancing at me annoyed to be seen together publicly, extremely thankful for muggles. The soft black turtleneck, maroon cardigan, and thin grey tights were much more comfortable than the stiff dress Daphne picked out the year before. I wonder if Gilly had thought about it or it was just a coincidence that I wouldn’t have to change the red ribbon pulling my hair back when I changed into my uniform robes later today. Zeesey and Gilly worked together to board Draco and I’s luggage onto the train. Two twelve year old’s had no business having luggage so luxurious. Narcissa was trying her best not to fuss over Draco, who demanded she not mother him on the platform. I wish my mother was here to worry if everything I needed made it into my trunk. Lucius was off to the side lightly socializing, and Draco soon found Blaise and Theodore to ditch his mother and me for. Draco barely even paused to say goodbye to his parents, which Narcissa tried to brush off from the expression on her face. She adored her son. It was her who made sure he wasn’t sent to another country for school in case he needed her in emergencies. My shoes scuffed against the stone platform restlessly. The weather was already starting to cool into September, and my body’s chill sensitivity wasn’t looking forward to the winter months to come. At least I could curl up in front of the hearth in the Gryffindor common room. Standing alone with Draco’s parents was awkward for everyone. I tried not to laugh at the prissy way Narcissa hummed when she saw Lavender’s mother glaring at her. But mostly it was deadly silent. No one knew what to say. Balling my fingers up tightly I forced myself to remember my manners. 

“I’m very thankful you let me stay with your family this summer,” I managed to sound somewhat sincere. Lucius cocked an eyebrow as he peered down at me already unimpressed with the conversation. Narcissa sniffed her nose up lightly nodding slightly. I nearly praised Merlin aloud when the warning whistle shrilled its final call. 

Leaning over to pick up Bernie’s leather carrier, I nodded at the couple, “I better get on the train before I miss it. Thank you again.” 

Neither said a word, as I zipped onto the train bursting with excited first years and familiar-looking upper class-man. Memories of the excitement and panic I felt boarding the train last year still felt like moments ago. Everything has changed in just a year. It was shocking that the excitement to see my friends overpowered the small pull of sadness when I passed by the compartment filled with my childhood friends. There wasn’t even a pause in my path to peer into the compartment I had assumed I would be in for the next seven years this time a year ago. 

“Estelle!” Andrew Nickles called from inside an open compartment waving me over. Smiling shyly at the older Ravenclaw friend group that took a liking to me. Well, Jareth kinda forced them to like me because he did. Jareth was setting up a wizarding chessboard and merely waved at me without looking up. Lance Seo sat across from the pureblood wildcard setting up his own side of the table carefully. I wasn’t surprised that Lance didn’t say anything and gave a friendly wave. He didn’t really speak too much. Beckett James, or just Beck, was discussing quidditch with Liza Kapoor which seemed to be heating up to a passionate debate with each word. Andrew Nickles gave me a toothy grin and held out a half-eaten box of Bertie Botts every flavor beans, “How was your summer? Want one?” 

“Thank you,” I smiled politely, throwing a light pink candy bean into my mouth and gagging, “Eraser. Yuck. It was alright. And yourself?” 

“Can’t complain!” Andrew smiled reminding me how intensely friendly he was and pointed in the direction I was walking in, “By the way, I saw Granger going that way not too long ago if you are looking for your friends.” 

“Oh, thanks!” I nodded waving at the upperclassmen who barely noticed I entered and left their space. Far too cool for me, clearly. Andrew wasn’t wrong and I quickly came across a mostly empty compartment with Ginny, Neville, and Hermione chatting lightly. Without knocking, I entered the room placing Bernie onto the empty bench before hugging Hermione happily. Neville gave me a friendly wave from beside Ginny, who eagerly introduced herself as Ron’s little sister. 

“Have you seen Harry and Ron?” Hermione frowned at me after another ten minutes passed without the two turning up. Bernie was stretched across Ginny’s lap in the sun loving the way the first year was petting his thick fur.

“Not since the station,” Ginny shrugged, “They might be with Fred and George.” 

“Dean and the others have a compartment nearby. Maybe they’re with them,” Neville suggested before focusing on unwrapping a chocolate frog. Hermione’s frown deepened locking eyes with me. 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” I winced knowing perfectly well what those two could get into when they had each other. 

“I have a bad feeling,” Hermione stated with a huff, “The school year hasn’t even started yet. Surely, they can’t get into that much trouble.” 

☾☾☾☾

Later that night, with a stomach full of rich food, Bernie laying across my lap, and my blissful body sinking deep into one of the scarlet sofas in the Gryffindor common room, I learned an important life lesson. Hermione always knows. The feast was filled with wild rumors about Ron and Harry flying an enchanted car to school after missing the train, and Hermione refused to believe it until Ron and Harry’s bashful confirmation forced her to. The common room exploded with excitement about the adventure so quickly Hermione’s lecture was drowned out before the second word left her lips. The excited buzz bounced off the grey stones until it totally filled the room with indistinguishable words of excitement. Gryffindor’s rowdy reputation was certainly not an understatement. Despite losing house points on the very first night of the year, Ron and Harry’s housemates couldn’t have been prouder. 

While my worry about the animated tree was paramount, I couldn’t help but picture myself how the wind felt through the open windows of the enchanted car while flying over the beautiful landscape of the school. That is nestled in the middle of miles and miles of rolling hills and crystal clean looking lakes begging you to take a dip in. The air must have been so crisp from the overabundant plants that far up in the air. Maybe it’s a good thing I wasn’t a part of that adventure. Ron and Harry would be trying to convince me to leave some hundred-year-old forest instead of being celebrated by their classmates loudly. 

“Brilliant!” cried Lee Jordan, “Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people’ll be talking about that one for years-.” 

Groups of excitable Gryffindors crowded around Harry and Ron, leaving a grumbling Hermione at my side. I noticed Lance Sao, Jareth’s friend, little sister Lucy standing nearby whispering with her best friend Talia Bridges. Ron and Harry both looked a bit worse for wear and smudged with light dirt marks. There was even a small twig sticking out of Ron’s collar between his tee-shirt and sweater. Waving my arms to get their attention over the crowd, I voiced my concern, “Is the Whomping Willow okay?” 

Ron’s face twisted into an expression of horror at my question, “The tree? You’re worried about the tree! What about your friends?” 

“I can be worried about both,” I pursed my lips in a bratty pout, “But a flying car didn’t crash into you.” 

“No,” Ron sarcastically agreed, “Just nearly smashed to death by an angry tree!” 

“Ron,” Harry tugged on his shoulder nodding his head to where Percy Weasley was attempting to get through the crowd of students to lecture his youngest brother. 

Ron and Harry glanced at each other and quickly wished us goodnight before sneaking past the prefect barely avoiding crossing paths. Their quick escape left Hermione frowning up at the stairs, with arms folded in her stern disapproval. A small smile started to grow on my face as I took in the perfectly Gryffindor welcome back. Never in my wildest dreams would I have made up something so unexpected yet perfectly normal at the same time. Percy was heatedly talking to the twins and Lee on where his youngest brother and his best friend scampered off to before he could lecture them. They were coming up with wild lies about them turning into bugs and escaping through the crack in the wall to mess with their brother. Percy’s face grew redder and redder with frustration before storming off to his dorm. His shiny prefect badge shimmered in the firelight. The other disappointed student, Hermione, huffed and brought my attention back to her, and I noticed she started tapping her foot. The annoyance and disapproval were nearly tattooed across her forehead. 

“I can’t believe they actually were stupid enough to-!” Hermione started venting to me, stopping with a harsh pause when she realized my shoulders were shaking slightly from laughter, “Are you laughing? Estelle, they must have broken about a hundred school rules. They could have been expelled!” 

“But they didn’t get expelled and they didn't get hurt. Honestly, I am just happy to be back,” I breathed letting my relaxed giggles die off, “It’s like nothing’s changed at all.”

With a sigh, and a moment of obvious forcing herself to let it go, Hermione deadpanned at me, “Clearly, it was silly of me to think this year would be quiet.” 

“I mean, hopefully, this year You-Know-Who doesn’t pop in,” I joked, rising to my feet with Bernie in my arms covering my dark robes in his fur, “Do you know any spells that get cat hair off you? Daphne knew so many beauty charms before we even got our wands. She would make Uncle Jasper perform them for her. ” 

“I have a few books on useful, household charms I can check. I think there was one,” Hermione reflecting back on one of her countless spellbooks she squeezes into her trunk and I tried my best not to notice the shift of her body weight at the casual mention of my family, “We should probably get some rest too. I don’t want to be tired during our first lessons.” 

As we made our way up the stairs, I listened to Hermione list off the things she was most excited about learning this year. The second-year dormitory door was identical to the one from last year. It had a small indention in the upper left corner and was higher in the tower but everything else about the door was the same. She barely had time to respond to my comment that reading ahead and learning everything on your own means you already learned it all before Lavender’s voice leaked out from behind the thick, wooden door. 

“Who said that? I hardly think she looks that much better. Her lips are still way too big for her face. She still has a ton of baby fat on her face which looks so funny on her scrawny body. Pavarti, she stayed with the Malfoy family this summer. They probably used magic to make her look better. When I ran into her at Diagon Alley, they were nearly buying everything in the shops,” Her voice gossiped to her best friend, and Hermione’s temper started to flare up at the hurt expression on my face, “She is family friends with the Malfoys. I have no idea how Harry and Ron are her friends. Hermione is sooo desperate but you couldn’t pay me to be either of their friends. Don’t look at me like that, P! You know it’s true. Oh my god, I almost forgot! You won’t believe what my mother told me about the Malfoy family-.”

Hermione had more than enough, clear by the way her magical energy was nearly sparking around her body and threw open the door. Lavender, who stood in the middle of the room with hands midway through animatedly assisting her gossip, froze with her mouth open catching and silencing the words she was about to say to Pavarti, sitting on the edge of her bed with her hands covered her mouth in horror at being caught gossiping. Their cheeks were both turning redder by the second. The door made a dull bang as it slammed against the stone wall from the force it was thrown open. Bernard flinched at the bang but I held him tightly in my arms. 

“What was that, Brown?” She frowned, with me timidly walking in behind her, “We heard you through the door.” 

Luckily or unfortunately, Draco and company’s insults were far sharper and her catty statements weren’t that hard to brush off. The point about my connection to so many families with awful reputations and my friend’s willingness to overlook it was the only thing she said that touched a nerve. A low growl rumbled from Bernard’s fuzzy chest at the tense energy in the room. 

“I, um,” Lavender stuttered, folding her arms over her chest protectively, “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Rubbish,” Hermione scoffed, stomping over to her bed. 

Lavender and Pavarti both looked about three shades lighter as they waited for me, and Bernard, to hop onto her bed like Hermione and I had done a million times the first year. My entire body felt stiff as I felt their eyes watch me slowly stalk across the open area to the space beside Hermione’s bed. Bernard’s happy chirp from jumping onto the mattress broke the silence and I found myself shocked that Pavarti broke it. 

“Is it true…,” She trailed off hesitantly looking at me, “Did you really live with Malfoy this summer?” 

“That’s none of your business,” Hermione sniffed her nose up crossing her arms. Knowing full well everyone was going to know by morning, if they didn’t already, I sighed unsure of how to respond. 

“Ms. Malfoy is my godmother. My mother was her best friend,” I explained, trying to focus on untying my shoelaces to avoid getting dirt on Hermione’s bed, “My cousin had to go to America because she’s really sick and my uncle went with her. Someone had to watch me.” 

“Why didn’t you just stay with Granger or Weasley?” Lavender asked openly, not attempting to hide the nosy twinkle in her eyes. Ignoring her pointedly, I hopped onto the familiar plush mattress. 

Pavarti sent a stern look at her friend, and hissed, “Don’t play dumb, Lav.” 

“I didn’t realize it was an act,” Hermione scowled seconds before slamming the last curtain closed around her bed. 

“What?” Lavender, getting some level of sort of gleeful adrenaline from the confrontation, giggled muffled from the other side of the curtain, “I was curious.” 

Hermione let out a soft grunt and quickly put a silencing charm around the bed. The magic was slightly advanced for our level but with her natural ability and the sheer amount of times we did exactly this it was effortless for her. When I did it you could still hear soft mumblings from the other side and I’m assuming vise versa. Hermione’s annoyance was clear from the aggressive way she ripped off her tall uniform socks. Hermione finally got settled and held a pillow to her chest and frowned, “It’s awful living in here with those two gawking at you all the time.”

“I wonder how many days until they ask you for homework questions,” I joked trying to pull her out of her bad mood. 

“The end of the week,” She scoffed, “Maybe if they actually paid attention to their lessons and not trading gossip they wouldn’t have to. You know you didn’t have to tell Pavarti anything.” 

“I just figured if I didn’t give them a reason why they would think of something that made my summer sound even worse. It’s bad enough already,” I sighed. My fingers weaved through Bernard’s thick fur vibrating lightly from his purring. The familiar poster bed was an overdue retreat I’ve been looking forward to. Our dormmates curious ears made it hard to feel comfortable talking otherwise, especially when we were trying to keep the stone a secret last year. 

“Was it?” Hermione winced. Her hands lightly nuzzled Bernard’s neck tuft. 

Silence fell between us for a moment as my mind flashed back on all the events that happened over the summer. It was weird. It was hard to share the details of my home life with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Less Harry, because he had his own turbulent home. Actually, Harry would probably be the only person I felt comfortable enough to talk about it with. There was so much bottled up shame and embarrassment for creating so many issues between my family and myself. There are some realities I know deep down I am hiding from but keep pushing off for my older self to understand. All I could think about right now was how good it must feel to come home to open arms. 

“I’m not sure where to even start. I just want to forget about it. But, Astoria’s treatments are working. She should be able to enroll here next year. It’s always been her biggest dream,” I said focusing on the positive.

“That’s great, Elle,” Hermione smiled, “You know I’m here if you ever want to talk.” 

☾☾☾☾

It’s hard to remember Hogwarts while you are away in any way that does it justice. Everything here seemed to be enhanced by the sheer abundance of magical energy. Not just from the hundreds of students and master level professors but the actual ground and air Hogwarts was founded on was alive with a dizzying amount of magical energy. Due to Hermione’s deep love for Hogwarts: A History, I know that the founders built their school here because of the deeply ingrained magical energy. The stone circles predate the school by hundreds of years and are believed to be an old druid ceremonial meeting place, which is why the ancient magic protecting Hogwarts is so strong. Last year I tried to read the runes carved into them as I had with the necklace I never took off, but the elements had weathered them away. Speaking of the dream protecting necklace, it was going to be nice to not have to be so paranoid about hiding it. If anyone found out my father left me anything they would have destroyed it. 

The castle and grounds felt just as alive as my friends quickly eating their breakfast beside me. You could almost feel it radiating through your shoes and socks into your toes. After looking forward to returning all summer I wanted to get wrapped up in this world but tensions between Hermione and the boys were destroying that fantasy. It was difficult to even enjoy the blueberry muffin I’ve been craving for three weeks with Hermione only looking over the top of her copy of ‘Voyage with Vampires’ by Lockhart to glare at Harry and Ron for being so reckless. The only thing she said to them, and by default myself, was a curt, ‘Morning,’ until we all were lined up in our greenhouse smocks waiting for Sprout to start the lesson. 

Our Herbology professor was modeling a few scuffs and bandages because of the enraged Whomping Willows fit at being hit by a flying car. Hard not to understand why it was so fussy but looking at the way Sprout was wincing made me feel for her even more. Shooting a side-eye at the boys, I walked up to the front of the class and greeted Sprout, “Good Morning, Professor. Did you have a nice holiday?” 

“Yes, yes, gave me time to get all the greenhouses sorted out,” She chuckled absentmindedly cleaning her dusty gloves on her gardening smock, “All sorts of nasty weeds try and take over the greenhouses without the students here to help me keep ‘em tidy.” 

“I’m sorry about Harry and Ron damaging the Whomping Willow. Is it going to heal alright?” I asked and glanced at a larger bandage on her hand. With her non-bandaged hand, she waved her hand dismissing my worry. 

“Thank you for asking but that tree has been on the school grounds a lot longer than your little group will be here. Don’t fuss about it. It’ll heal up just right in a week or two. Go back to your desk, Ms. Vaile. Time to start class,” Sprout chuckled and as I walked back to my spot I barely managed to make out her grumbling, “Wouldn’t have been so rough if that fool, Lockhart, hadn’t stuck his nose in it.” 

Hermione shot me a confused look when I returned to the spot beside her trying not to laugh. Shaking my head, she didn’t need to hear about her hero messing up his colleague’s work. She’s already in an irritable mood because of Harry and Ron. Lavender’s gossip didn’t exactly help matter’s either. I couldn’t help but have a good mood during Herbology. It was the subject that came as effortlessly as everything else did to Hermione or Draco. Charms was my second best, which made me wonder if it was because my alleged ancestor Merlin was known as the prince of enchanters. Potions was third, due to the close relationship it had with herbology. But herbology was my favorite. Even the smell of mossy dirt and freshly watered plants thrilled my excitement to start a new year of knowledge, especially after going an entire summer banned from gardening. Narcissa hated dirt as much as I loved it. 

“You guys have no idea what’s about to happen,” I smirked knowingly inspecting the twitching, large green leaf in front of me. If I couldn’t identify it from its foliage, the earmuffs were an obvious giveaway. Ron caught my eye and made me chuckle at the sudden look of apprehension on his face. 

“No plant in here is going to come close to last night,” Harry breathed, ignoring the way it made Hermione purse her lips. 

“Don’t jinx it, mate,” Ron winced peering around the room cautiously. After the Weeping Willow and that experience with Devil’s Snare last year, he’s developed a healthy fear of magical plants. 

“Morning, everyone! Good morning, everyone!” Sprout shouted, hushing the room instantly. Approaching the head of the long gardening table, she tapped her wand to silence the few still whispering toward the back end of the room. 

“Good morning, Professor Sprout,” The class responded in unison earning a bright smile from the Hufflepuff Head. 

Clapping her hands together in excitement, Sprout greeted us all warmly for our first class of the year and waved her arms motioning us to step closer to the two rows of plants before us, “Welcome to Greenhouse Three, Second Years. Now, gather round, everyone.”

Sharing an excited look with Hermione, I watched Sprout turn to the bench behind her caked in algae and different shades of dirt and mulch to grab a heavy-looking pot with a grunt, “Today, we are going to repot Mandrakes. Who here can tell me the properties of the Mandrake root?”

Hermione and my own had been the only raised hands, and Sprout pointed at me, “Yes, Ms. Vaile.” 

“Scientifically known as Mandragora, the mandrake is a sentient plant that looks like a human that has been used since ancient witches and wizards. It is key in restorative antidotes and draughts but you have to be careful because it’s cry is deadly to anyone who hears it,” I explained happily to discuss plants without sounding absolutely dull. The warning at the end of the sentence was exactly the thing Ron seemed to be waiting to hear and elbowed Harry mumbling something I couldn’t hear. Harry didn’t try to hide the amusement at his friend’s stress. I shared a half-grin enjoying Ron’s squirming. 

Sprout gave me a nod of approval before she confirmed my statement, “Informed as ever, Ms. Vaile. Ten points for Gryffindor!” 

I caught Draco’s scowl of annoyance at the praise and reward to his rival house and felt my smile grow. As if sensing my eyes on him, his grey eyes darted toward me and narrowed at my proud smile. But we were in the greenhouse and there was nothing he could possibly do could bring me down here and he knew it. My brief moment of pride faded to listen to Sprout continue onward with the lesson. 

“Now, as our Mandrakes are still only seedlings their cries won’t kill you yet. But they could knock you out for several hours, which is why I have given each of you a pair of earmuffs for auditory protection. So, could you please put them on, right away?” Sprout motioned to the dirty collection of earmuffs that sat before every student in a range of mended tears and stains displaying their long history with the second year Herbology class, and impatient with the sluggish pace of her students following directions she spurred the class on, “Quickly! Flaps tight down.”

After the sound of the rustling of smocks and fumbling hands died down, Sprout started demonstrating what we were about to imitate, “Watch me closely. You grasp your Mandrake firmly, you pull it sharply up out of the pot…”

With the baby-like root being ripped essentially from its cradle by Sprout’s strong tug, it’s shrill cry sharply rang out into the windowed structure. Student’s all around me winced into holding their earmuffs tightly against their ears in an attempt to block out the sound but I was too busy cooing at the fussy plant baby. Hermione, from the corner of my vision, clutched her ears, and gave me a horrified expression. Pouting slightly, I protested, “They’re cute!” 

“Got it? And, now you dunk it down into the other pot and pour a little sprinkling of soil to keep him warm,” Sprout ignored her student’s cries and continued her demonstration by plopping the crying plant into a new pot, which muffled the noise with each toss of fresh soil. My cooing was cut short when a heavy thud echoed in the room almost tuned out from the shrill Mandrake cry. Neville laid on the muddy floor as if he was in the deepest sleep. He must have fainted. Draco is never going to let him live this one down I’m sure. 

Sprout sighed unimpressed with the unconscious boy and assumed he didn’t follow directions, “Uh, Longbottom’s been neglecting his earmuffs.”

“No, ma’am, he’s just fainted,” Seamus winced, peering at the unconscious classmate beside his feet. His face was pink from the sudden surprise. 

“Yes. Well, just leave him there. On we go,” Sprout shrugged, “Plenty of pots to go around.” 

My gloved hand couldn’t have found its way to the base stems of the plant faster than the excited smile spreading across my fast. Sprout addressed the class, “Grasp your Mandrake, and pull it up!”

With her final word, the classroom was filled with a roar of shrill cries, and I hardly noticed the horrified and fearful expressions of my class because I immediately started cooing at the baby softly to try and calm it. A human baby would cry if you ripped it from its bed like this too. They aren’t too different. My free hand reached out to support the wiggling root by lightly rubbing the chubby stomach. As I whispered and rubbed it comfortingly, my mandrake stopped letting out its long shrill cry and only let out short wails. I smiled proudly at the achievement and looked away from my plant to check on my friends. Hermione looked absolutely stiff as a board, Harry was trying to lean as far away from the thing as possible and Ron’s entire face was twisted into an encompassing terror at the plant screaming at him in his hands. Harry looked at my soothed plant with an annoyed shake of his head but his attention was distracted by something that made him laugh. Looking over to where he was laughing at I joined in his mirth at the sight of Draco screaming in pain because of the biting mandrake trapping his fingers between its lips. 

“Quickly, into the new pots,” Sprout prompted her class frozen by the sight of the wiggling roots in their gloved hands, “Don’t forget to put enough dirt to keep it warm. They are still babies.” 

“Let’s tuck you in,” I said smiling down at the fussy root and gently dumped handfuls of fresh, moist soil over him until he was totally covered and the only sign of it was the occasional twitch of its leaves. Everyone else seemed to finish shortly after I and Sprout beamed at us all proudly. 

“Another ten points to Gryffindor for your repotting technique, Ms. Vaile,” Sprout awarded me another ten points making the Gryffindor’s of the class whisper excitedly. The second-year seems to be great so far. 

☾☾☾☾

The Great Hall was bustling with the sounds of students chatting with their house during the lunch break. There was so much to discuss on the first day of term, from new material to new social gossip. It was hard to decide if the looks at our direction were from the rumors of my stay with the Malfoy family or the flying car situation. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I sat in our normal cluster eating our lunch half interested because of the desperate way Ron was winding a roll of clear tape around the snapped part of his wand. There was a little information on wand lore in those Merlin books I read over the summer as the Druid’s were the originators of staff and wands but there wasn’t anything about fixing a wand once it’s been snapped in two halves. It was mostly just detailing what kind of wood fit with different personalities and skills. 

With a violent sigh, Ron held up his wand with the roll of tape still connected like an ornament and gulped, “Say it. I’m doomed.” 

“You’re doomed,” Harry agreed, wincing at the sight of his best friend's wand’s pathetic state. I could tell Hermione was trying her best not to kick Ron when he was down about how it was his fault for flying the car here. 

“At least cut the tape,” I suggested weakly. 

Ron grabbed a butter knife and crudely cut the tape from the roll. From deep within his chest a groan of dismay was unearthed from the reality of his busted wand. My fingers ran along my wand with affection letting the familiar carvings of the blooming rose on the back end tickle my finger pads. The wand warmed my nerves at the touch. I have no idea what I would do if I broke my wand. My attachment to it felt like a toddler and their favorite stuffed animal. 

The somber aura hanging over our small group was catapulted into another dimension when a sudden bright flash nearly blinded me. The spots in my vision cleared and in their place was a first-year Gryffindor nearly quivering from excitement at the sight of Harry. A camera nearly the size of his chest was gripped by white-knuckled fingers. Without awareness of how he dazed us with the flash of his camera, the first year burst out, "Hi, Harry! I’m Colin Creevy! I’m in Gryffindor, too!” 

“Oh- Hi, Colin. Nice to meet you,” Harry responded trying not to sound annoyed with the lack of boundaries, which was tested with another sudden flash. Harry’s patience about his fame was pretty impressive considering he grew up so removed and unaware of his legendary status. Colin, at a loss for words, merely stared at Harry in awe ignorant of the uncomfortable stares our group was sending him. His manners were awful. 

“Ron,” Dean called over breaking the strange encounter and nodded toward the window where a single owl flew as if it were drunk, “Is that your owl?” 

The entire hall started to stare at the owl clumsily flapping its wings and screeching to announce its arrival. The attention on the owl was worth it with it’s landing. Colin managed to snap another picture right as the large, grey owl smashed into a large bowl of potato chips sending chips across the area like confetti. My hand covered my gaping mouth in horror as the dazed bird slid across the wooden table until Ron reached out and stopped it in front of him. There was a collective wince from the students in the hall at the horrible landing. The Slytherin table seemed to find the most joy in the catastrophe. They were all snickering and pointing at Ron’s cherry red face. Daphne rolled her eyes and with the flip of her blonde hair turned back to her conversation with Blaise and Pansy. 

“Bloody bird’s a menace,” Ron cursed mortified at the method of delivery from their family owl and lightly took the bright red envelope from the unconscious bird which burst back to life the moment the letter was gone. My instincts took over at the sight of the battered owl. Its feathers were smoothed down under my gentle fingers checking for injuries. The bright red letter caught my attention from the corner of my eye and my hands froze on the left-wing of the bird. My eyebrows rose when I realized what Ron had just been sent, which Ron also seemed to realize, “Oh no.”

Gleefully, Seamus pointed loudly at the letter clutched fearfully in Ron’s fingers, “Look, everyone! Weasley’s got himself a Howler!”

The students in the hall all started to snicker excited to watch the show go down while they enjoyed their lunch. The owl was unimpressed and nipped at one of the potato chips it scattered across the table. Ron seemed frozen in a state of fear and shock staring at the letter wide-eyed. I couldn’t help but feel lucky my family was too obsessed with their image to have sent anything like that after my sorting. Neville, from a little ways away, warned Ron with a shutter to his tone, “Go on, Ron. I ignored one from my gran once. It was horrible.”

“I heard once a kid ignored one for so long it opened itself and set the kid’s hair of fire,” I added without thinking but guilt consumed me when Ron’s terror worsened, “Of course, it was probably just a… rumor.” 

Ron nodded clearly with a blank mind and slid his nails under the lip of the letter breaking it open. With a burst, it flew from his hands and hung suspended in the space in front of his face with the opening of the letter shaping into the form of a sinister-looking mouth with pointy, parchment fangs. There was even a forked tongue. I read in an advertisement they were letters possessed by your rage. The howler didn’t leave the nosy students of the great hall waiting for long before it started shouting in the familiar tone of Molly Weasley, enraged by her son’s choices, “Ronald Weasley! How dare you steal that car! I am absolutely disgusted!” 

The sound of her voice was so thunderous that small clouds of dust were shaken from the ceiling onto the plates of food below. It was the exact opposite of Jasper’s cold, seething anger. With each word, Ron’s face twisted into a more and more mortified and terrified expression, “Your father is now facing an inquiry at work and it’s entirely your fault! If you so much as put another toe out of line, we’ll bring you straight home!” 

“Oh, and Ginny, dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud,” The howler turned toward the instantly cherry-faced first year in a softer, loving tone before turning back to Ron and blowing a raspberry in his face. 

Just as quickly as it started the howler tore itself into tiny pieces and floated onto the table gracefully. Ron’s face made it easy to see his thoughts were racing a million miles away from the nosy stares in the Great Hall. It was deafeningly silent compared to the abrasive shouting in the howler. Hermione opened her mouth a few times but found herself at a loss for words. Even she felt bad for him despite her frustration at their breaking of the rules. Harry looked guilty for his part in all this. I bet it was because of Mr.Weasley getting into trouble because of their poor choices. 

☾☾☾☾

“You’re going to pull your hair out,” Hermione scolded from beside me. Her hand grabbed my wrist to stop the frantic combing of my hair with my twitchy fingers. The potion-maintained waves had poofed out, like Hermione’s untamed curls, in the small section that was abused. My fingers moved onto picking at the chipped line in the wooden desk we shared the moment she placed it onto it. Placing a hand over my own to flatten it, she offered comfort, “I’m sure Jareth wouldn’t mind tutoring you again. You always get the lessons eventually.” 

“Urg,” I groaned thinking back on the transfiguration class we just left feeling the heat rise to my face, “McGonagall looked so unimpressed. I don’t know how you do it, Hermione. You must have turned seven beetles into buttons! I’m going to fail this year. I barely managed the basics first year.” 

“I memorized the textbook over summer. I can help after Defense is over,” She smiled proudly. The room was starting to fill up more with the Hufflepuff students that were grouped with us in this lesson. They were chattering happily about the charms lesson that day and couldn’t look more different from the defeated looking Gryffindors. I tried my best not to get annoyed with her skill and forced out a smile. 

“At least, I least I’ll have Ron to struggle with me. His wand looked like it was about to burst into flames,” I said to Hermione. The seat under me shook roughly from a sudden force behind me. 

“I can hear you,” Ron muttered behind me clearly in just as a foul mood after the lesson. Harry was trying not to be obvious about eyeing the trashed wand laying on the table between them looking like it wanted to be put out its misery. 

“Are you sure you can’t tell your parents?” I winced letting my muscles cry out slightly from the stretch to grab it off the desk to inspect closer. The wood felt angry. And tired. When my wince deepened, Ron snatched it from my curious fingers hotly. I quickly added, “Maybe Olivander could fix it.” 

“Sounds expensive. You heard my mum,” He shook his head. 

“I think everyone heard,” Harry smirked cheekily. 

“Hermione,” Ron peered over at our desk leaning up slightly, “Why… have you outlined all Lockhart’s lessons in little hearts?” 

With a flurry of motion, Hermione slammed the slip of paper with our daily lesson plans into the navy blue book on the top of her small stack of Lockhart novels. Pointedly looking toward the front of the class ignoring the boys behind us, I could make out the reddening of her cheeks between her thick hair. 

She wasn’t the only girl excited about our first lesson with the celebrity wizard. All the girls seemed excited, giggling, and whispering behind their hands. Some of the boys looked excited, probably from the celebrity status, and being forced to read his books, but mostly they seemed a bit overwhelmed with the fluttery girls. Ron merely rolled his eyes and turned around to discuss something with Seamus. 

“Would you believe me if I said I missed that?” I joked to Harry trying not to roll my eyes at the two friends in our group that always bickered. Straightening out my body to look forward I used the last few minutes before class to put out a few sheets of lavender parchment paper and my writing quill set. It was probably too early in the year to get away with eating a sugar quill right now but the sight of the tangerine flavored candy in my bag tempted me dangerously. Narcissa bought me a variety box when we went shopping the first time. Draco took all the cherry flavor, obviously. He loves that candy nearly as much as I do. 

"Think I could get away with a sugar quill?" I pouted at Hermione, "Did we have to sit in the front row?" 

Hermione glanced at me and frowned, "Yes, we did. I wouldn't try it personally. I'm sure Lockhart is very observant." 

"You're probably right," I nodded closing my bag, "I suppose I can just eat it later." 

“I can hardly wait for the lesson to start. I can’t believe he’s our professor,” Hermione whispered to me practically swooning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this before. 

“Look at all the pictures he has of himself,” I pointed at the rows of pictures and portraits that lined each of the walls of the long room. Every image showed him with that same theatrical smile and energy. 

“He’s so accomplished,” Hermione breathed without realizing I was slightly making fun of him. It was kind of out of character for me but I was starting to lean more toward Harry and Ron’s opinion. It was hard not to be excited with Hermione nearly bursting with anticipation next to you, even if I was more of a Weird Sisters fangirl myself. 

Just as I was about to point out his tardiness, the wooden door at the top of the staircase in the front of the room opened and Lockhart sashayed out of his office with an over the top smile. He wasn’t wearing pastels, but rather a timeless set of tan robes that I swear I saw in a magical fashion magazine a few weeks ago. The room was instantly filled with muffled giggles and the hiss of whispers. Lockhart inhaled the reactions of his young students in exchange for needing oxygen. 

“Let me introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Me!” He joked walking down to the stone steps to the front of the room blissfully unaware of the way half the class, that wasn’t too busy swooning, cringed at the bad joke. 

“Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League,” with each step, our new professor listed another one of his accomplishments until he reached the front of the room and arrogantly added beaming at his moving portrait that was painting another portrait of himself, “And five-times winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award- but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at him!”

Glancing at Hermione and seeing her totally dazed state of adoration, I sighed. Not that I could say anything after how many times she's listened to me swoon about George Weasley tucked away in one of our dormitory beds. How does a brilliant girl like her not see right through this? It’s no wonder he never got invitations to very many pureblood events. The only reason Jasper or Lucius would want him around would be to mess with him and mock him behind his back. Those two could get pretty catty together. Hogwart's mean girls had nothing on the two long-haired blonde men. 

Dramatically, Lockhart whipped out his wand from his robe pocket nearing the cloth-covered cadge that rattled lightly and frowned at us warning us in a grave tone, “Now- be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind. You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. I must ask you not to scream. It might… provoke them!”

The ruby, velvet cloth was pulled from the cage with a loud whoosh and I had to throw my hand to my mouth to prevent giggles from flooding out of it. The build-up prior almost made it seem like a funny joke when it ended up being a small swarm of bright blue Cornish pixies. Black eyes peered at the students through the bars exploding with barely contained chaos. The group of pixies chirped and twinkled at each other in their little language as if they were plotting. My skin tingled the way it always did in the presence of magical creatures.

“Cornish pixies?” Seamus laughed finding it just as amusing as myself. Hermione elbowed me in the ribs to stop me from shaking with suppressed giggles. He could have picked a million magical creatures before those if he wanted to impress students on his first day. I could name half off the top of my head. 

“Freshly caught Cornish pixies,” Lockhart corrected as if it changed anything, which only made Seamus chuckle spread to other students, “Laugh if you will, Mr. Finnigan, but pixies can be devilishly tricky little blighters.”

Done with the giggles of unimpressed students, Lockhart slid the gate open letting the pixies escape like flashes of blue balls being hurled out the cage door, “Let’s see what you make of them, ha!” 

Three flew directly toward me snickering gleefully. The rest of the room exploded in the frenzied chorus of students jolting out their desks, trying to fight off attacks and running from the room as quickly as possible. It was hard to pay attention to my classmates when my hands swatted at the three pixies teaming up against me. One of the pixies was already tangled in my thick, black hair yanking and tying knots into it. The other, clearly inspired by it’s friend, was violently tugging my hair backward by the red, silk bow tied tightly on the back of my head. The last pixie was buzzing around my face pulling faces and rapidly trying to communicate words in their strange language to me. It seemed like it was trying to have a full conversation with me. 

“Come on now- round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies!” Lockhart attempted to encourage us like a normal professor not seeing that his class had devolved into such a state of chaos that teaching was simply impossible.

After a rather sharp tug and managing to avoid my hands pushing it off, the pixie pulling my bow howled in unison with my own scream of pain mockingly. Paper from torn apart books now joined the blurs of blue speeding around the room. Hermione grabbed one of her books and batted the one pulling my bow as if it was a sport and quickly moved onto the one dancing in front of my face. She batted it away just in time for me to see poor Neville being carried up to the ceiling by his ears. My hands snaked into my hair but the pixie only made it’s protective nest of my hair harder to detangle with my fingers messing around with the strands. Before I had a chance to stop it, another joined in this painful game of hide and seek in my hair twinkling mischievously in my ear.

Another speeded by my head, pausing only to dump an ink bottle over my head before speeding off to throw the bottle at the wall in an explosion of glass wet with dark ink. Streams of cold liquid started to drip down my face from my hairline as if the darkness of my hair bled out. Hermione and Harry just stared at me wide-eyed at a loss of how to help me and protect themselves. Ron was busy batting the little pests with his book to hit the one that came up to our little group to pull Hermione’s hair.

“Get off me!” Hermione shrieked, twisting her body trying to bat it away from her. Harry rushed up beside her and tried to aim his book but struggled with the way Hermione was frantically flinching in panic. 

“Stop! Stop! Hold still!” Harry ordered Hermione, who desperately listened, and sent the pixie flying like a speeding, blue snitch ball. The one Hermione batted away from my face had returned to scream in my face for shouting at me and I could sense it’s magical energy that made it bubbling from emotion. Pixies were born from old magic, you could sense it. It just didn’t make them any less of a menace. 

“This is madness!” I screamed in horror not sure if I should focus on the two tangled in my hair, the ink on my face, or the one buzzing in my face. It was only us four and Lockhart left in the room. Well, and Neville swinging from the chandelier like an ornament. 

“Peskipiksi pesternomi!” Lockhart waved his wand ignorantly which was quickly ripped from his hand. Those famous white teeth were exposed in a gape of shock at his failure.

Everyone in the room realized, including Lockhart, that our professor had absolutely no idea how to actually clean up his mess and stop the swarm of chaotic Cornish pixies. Now equipped with a wand, the pixies were sending off blasts of primary magic charges, and broke the chain holding up the skeleton of the large magical bird. The dead bird dropped to the bottom of the room with a loud crash with all previous skills of flight dying with the creature’s life. A cloud of dust billowed around the skeleton. Lockhart was already to his office door, and saved only one of his many self-portraits before turning to our group breathlessly, “I’ll ask you four to just nip the rest of them back into their cage!”

“What do we do now?” Ron asked us and used each of his hands to bat away incoming pixies with books. 

“Get them out of my hair!” I screeched, swatting my hands in the air around my face entertaining the pixie who seemed to see avoiding my hands as a fun game. With a sidestep, Ron hurled the pixie straight into the wall with a grunt of effort. There was no time to thank him, and I joined Harry and Ron helplessly swatting the pixies away from our huddled group. 

Boldly, Hermione stood at her full height, wand pointed in the air, and yelled, “Immobulus!”

And just as quickly as the chaos was born, it was smothered in a dizzying sudden silence. The Cornish pixies were frozen and lightly floated in place like balloons on a windless day. The only sound was the torn pages that fluttered to the floor in delicate flips. Even the two tangled in my hair were unable to move. There was a light pat sound as the ink dripped from the curl of my chin onto my white collared shirt.

It was Neville, who hung from the ceiling by his uniform hood, that broke the silence with a dejected sigh, “Why is it always me?” 

“Can you believe him?” Ron roared officially, breaking out of his state of shock. Hermione, with light rose cheeks, pointed her wand at Neville thinking of the best way to get him down before turning to snap at Ron. 

“He just wants to give us some hands-on experience,” said Hermione, slightly weaker than her normal forceful tone used in debates. 

“Hands-on?” Harry gasped at the muggleborn witch, “Hermione, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing-.” 

“Rubbish,” Hermione scowled, denying forgetting about Neville swinging slightly above us, “You’ve read his books- Look at all those amazing things he’s done-.” 

“He says he’s done,” Ron muttered. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone lied to be famous,” I gritted my teeth through the pain of pulling the tangled pixie from my thick hair trying to ignore how sticky the ink felt dripping down my face still. I placed the pixie onto the desk next to me gently and pulled the other one out. This time a lot more forcefully impatient to get the creatures out of my hair, and set it next to the other one, with a few strands of long black hair wrapped around it’s frozen body. My eyes watered from the sharp pain, and I, without thinking, smeared the black ink across my left cheek consumed with my frustration. I was one sticky moment away from stomping my feet and throwing a fit that would put Draco to shame. 

“Uh, guys,” Neville’s voice came from above us awkwardly reminding us he was stuck there, “Can you get me down?” 

After we got Neville down, we all worked together to collect the pixies into the cage despite their angry-looking eyes to lose their brief freedom. The ink dripped into my eyes a few times and tested my temper by the minute. Clearly, Ron was feeling the same way and voiced my thoughts after twenty minutes of cleaning up the worst first class ever. 

“He didn’t even give us house points,” Ron complained watching Harry lock the door back on the cadge. 

“We should have gotten at least a few! My clothes are ruined!” I stomped my foot feeling a full-on fit starting to bubble out smearing the ink across my face more in a feeble attempt to get it off, “We basically are doing his job right now! And I have to walk through campus looking like a ghoul!” 

“At least you don’t have to worry about it staining your hair,” Harry tried to be positive but wasn’t feeling it himself. 

“Arg!” I grunted out before turning on my heel and storming from the room, with my leather bag being the only thing without black ink soaking it through. Word must have gotten out about Lockhart’s lesson because only a few people looked confused to see my hair tangled into a poofy nest with thick smears and streaks of black ink covering my face and clothes. If I stomped with my steps hard enough, little dots dripped from the ends of my hair like I was leaving a breadcrumb trail behind me.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: No More Excuses

The first day was just the start of an extremely long week. My bad mood festered until the next day because Hermione was making excuses for the under qualified professor and the headache from the three showers and two hours spent painfully brushing my hair to get all the ink and knots out of my hair. The amount of hair I lost really encouraged my bratty behavior. Hogwarts house elves were very impressive because the very next morning it was like there were never massive black stains all over my uniform and silk ribbon. My skin still had a blue-purplish tint on my face, scalp, and neck, which was hilarious enough for Jareth and his friends to come up with ‘clever’ jokes about what happened when we crossed paths in the hall. I couldn’t even complain because Jareth agreed to tutor me again for free. Sometimes it was hard to tell if Jareth and his friends even liked me with how much they messed with me. 

Each day moved slowly with something different ruining it every day. One day Lavender spilled her homemade essential oil blend all over the carpet in the center of the door. The mixture was so potent we had to stay out of our room until midnight while the house-elves tried to scrub away the overpowering scent. Everything I owned smelt like it for a few days, including my bed. Bernard refused to sleep in the room for four days and slept with the third-year girls to my embarrassment. It irritated my sinuses so much that I stayed up in the common room two nights in a row until I could barely keep my eyes open to return to the room. With the dark bags and slightly blue skin, I couldn’t help but agree with Jareth when he said I looked like a ghoul. 

Another day, Hermione and I bickered during a potions lesson about Lockhart distracting us from adding the ground ash wood bark to the potion at the right time giving Snape the perfect chance to deduct house points. After we got a few glares from our housemates, there was an unspoken agreement to agree to disagree on her celebrity crush for the time being. 

The next day during Charms Ron’s wand crackled dangerously before sending a snot green spark ball right at Flitwits’ face leaving him with a partly singed brow, which also lost us more house points. Every spell attempted only enraged and damaged Ron’s wand more and more with a steadily increasing severity of unwanted results each time. But from the howler he received, I couldn’t help but understand why he was choosing to suffer in silence. Harry and I offered to help him buy a new wand but Ron refused. Even if he didn’t there was no way to get to Ollivander’s. 

The little first year with the flashing camera from lunch on the first day had learned Harry’s schedule and had become Harry’s personal paparazzi stalker. Colin Creevy was Harry’s menace. The way we had to sneak around the castle and rush between classrooms wasn’t just making Harry tense from the shameless lack of boundaries from his biggest fan. We were all getting tired of it. It didn’t help that Draco caused a big enough scene mocking our new tag along that Lockhart noticed. Colin lucked out and got a bunch of shots of Lockhart forcing Harry to pose with him in the name of mentoring him on how to be famous properly. Draco went nearly purple watching Harry suffer through that lecture and Harry was irritable for the rest of the day. All that was keeping him from snapping off on the innocent first year was the excitement of returning to Quidditch practice. 

With barely any homework, the weekend was looking like a much-needed break. Ron, Hermione, and I took advantage of the beautiful weather and chatted casually waiting for Harry to meet up with us after practice wrapped up. We all still wore our uniforms despite class ending for the week. Bernie was laid out on the grass by my feet belly up in a perfect ray of sunlight. His fur almost glowed in the natural beam of light. The white and creamy orange tones of his fur looked beautiful in the sun. Hermione, Ron, and I were trying to think of something to pass the time when the Gryffindor quidditch team walked into the courtyard at the same time as the Slytherin team, who were also fully geared up and walking to the arch that led to the Quidditch pitch. 

“Uh-oh. I smell trouble,” Ron muttered noticing the two groups come face to face barely keeping back snarls like two packs of angry wolves. Leaving both Bernie and our spot behind, we quickly came to stand beside our house in case they would need back up. My nerves felt like a thousand ants crawling over me. Noticing our arrival, Marcus Flint curled his lip like his father had done toward my presence during last year’s Christmas ball. My shorter height made it easy to hide behind Ron and Hermione. Oliver Wood was scowling down at a rolled-up note nearly twitching with irritation.

“I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today, owing to the need to train their new Seeker. You’ve got a new Seeker. Who?” He deadpanned looking over the group in front of him not seeing any new faces. A pit started to form in my stomach. Did Draco really convince his Father to buy the entire team the newest broom so he could play as a second year? The older and taller teammates stuffed to the side revealing the shortest and youngest member on the team smirking at the Gryffindor team arrogantly. He strutted forward making sure to put the shiny black broom in front of his body like an official badge of being on the team. All those miserable hours in the sun getting yelled at by Draco to train his speed paid off. For him, at least. 

“Malfoy?” Harry frowned, eyeing his rival in shock. There was a slight tone of amusement in his voice like Draco was a walking joke. 

“That’s right. And that’s not all that new this year,” Draco smirked, tossing the broom to his other hand. 

Ron gasped from in front of me when he finally noticed the matching broom in our rival’s hands, “Those are Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones! How did you get those?”

“A gift from Draco’s father,” Marcus sneered at Ron puffing out his chest arrogantly. His father would never be able to afford that and clearly, he wasn’t passing a chance to show off, even if it wasn’t his doing. Almost all pureblood families were wealthy, but few were as rich as the Malfoy family. The Greengrass family being one of the few. 

“You see Weasley, unlike some, my father can afford the best,” Draco added, cockily mocking my friend. Ron’s face scrunched up in rage at the low blow. Draco caught my eye and smirked harder, “Maybe if Vaile wasn’t such a disappointment to her family, her uncle would do the same and you might be able to upgrade from those ratty Cleansweaps.” 

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” Hermione responded hotly without missing a beat, “They got it on pure talent.”

The way Draco’s face tightened meant Hermione triggered a nerve for Draco. It was a face I rarely saw before Hogwarts. Only Blaise and Daphne were bold enough to ever take jabs. Fully consumed by his temper, Draco brushed off the jab with his arrogant mannerisms. Leaves crunched under his foot as he stalked up to stare down at Hermione coldly, “No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!”

My blood froze, and I heard a gasp escape my mouth in my clouded moment of shock. I’ve heard him say the slur so many times but I never thought he would be vile enough to say it directly to someone’s face. Part of me thought he was just using that word so often this summer to seem cool and grown up to his friends but the effortless way the disgusting word dripped from his mouth proved he really felt everything that word stood for. It wasn’t just quietly being pro-pureblood. It was actively anti-muggleborn. Hermione’s face looked as white as I must have looked and it wasn’t even me being called a slur. Ron gently pushed his way in front of Hermione and raised his wand to Draco's face painted red with the need for angry revenge. 

“You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy. Eat slugs!” He shouted but his wand proved just how unreliable it was. Ron’s redhead was a blur of color from the force of the backfire knocking him backward off his feet. The laughter of the Slytherin team silenced the grunt of pain when he smacked into the hard ground. The rest of the Gryffindor team ran to where Ron laid on the ground but my body was frozen in place staring at Draco in horrified surprise. 

Noticing I was still standing there speechless at his hate speech, He taunted me quiet enough for only his closest teammates to hear, “Not going to defend your friend? Scared to admit you agree?” 

“Just-,” I stuttered hating the way my flustered response pleased him, “I’m not you.” 

“Is that jealousy, Vaile?” He sneered, cocking his eyebrows.

“Estelle, we gotta get him to Hagrid’s!” Hermione’s voice was filled with urgency as she and Harry passed by the Slytherin team and myself holding up Ron between them, “Come one!”

“You heard her. Better go be a good Gryffindor and play healer with the filth,” Draco howled, which was quickly echoed by his teammates. I didn’t respond and sped off to catch up with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Now wasn’t the time to make it about me. All that matters right now is making sure Ron and Hermione feel okay. Bernie was at my heels and meowed grumpily at the sudden fast pace. He was even more unhappy when he had to dodge the slugs falling from Ron’s mouth. 

The tip of my uniform shoes caught on the stone pavement as I tried to catch up to Hermione and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. It was rougher than intended in my clumsy pursuit but it made her turn back to me exposing the shimmer of tears Hermione was determinedly trying to blink away. My fingers squeezed lighting and offered a weak smile. Her lip quivered lightly returning the smile before turning back to Ron at her side. The red head looked greyer and greyer by the second. 

☾☾☾☾

Harry and Hermione sat on either side of Ron rubbing his back, while I stood near the crackling fireplace biting my lip nervously. I’ve never seen that shade of green on someone’s skin before. There was a small pile of slugs wiggling in between Ron’s black uniform shoes. One had started to crawl away from the pile leaving a clear, but wet trail of slime behind it. Bernie swatted at the thing gently unsure of how to handle the situation. Wanting to be useful, and to avoid Bernie eating it and getting sick, I picked up the nomadic slug and swung open the window to place it on the ledge to slither down the side of the stone hut and into the forest

“Wo, this calls for a specialist’s equipment,” Hagrid returned to the room with an overly large bucket similarly sized to everything else in his home, and placed it into Ron’s hands, who immediately started to fill it up, “Nothin’ to do but wait’ll it stops, I’m afraid.”

“Ugh,” Harry gagged, at the sight of another vomit born slug and reached over to help support the massive, slightly rusty bucket. 

Ignoring the gross way they felt under my fingertips, like massive worms covered in warm bile, I tossed the ones on the floor into the bucket. Hagrid might love animals but we did barge into his home. It would be rude to leave a huge mess.

“Two that time. Maybe it’s almost over,” I winced commenting on the last round of slug vomit. Ron made eye contact with me and nodded dazed at the violent turn of fate. 

My black Mary-Jane shoes shuffled awkwardly, avoiding meeting Hermione’s eyes. The shame of the culture I was raised into felt crushing. I grew up with him and I didn’t say anything. I never thought he would say that to her face. When did he become that heartless? Just a month and a half ago he comforted me after my aunt tried to attack me. 

With another squelch of the bucket, Hagrid nodded comfortingly to the distressed boy, “Better out than in. Who’s Ron tryin’ to curse, anyway?” 

“Malfoy,” Harry responded, and Hagrid just nodded unfazed by the response. I guess it wasn’t that unexpected we got into an altercation with him. Harry began to explain the situation but confusion bled into his tone, “He called Hermione, …um, well, I don’t- I don’t know exactly what it means.”

Hermione crossed her arms across her uniform robes and walked away from the group a little clenching her jaw, before responding softly refusing to look in our direction, “He called me a Mudblood.” 

Hagrid gasped in horror, eyes filled instantly with pity for the girl, “He did not!” 

“What’s a Mudblood?” Harry asked confusedly, looking toward me. I felt my eyes widen and shook my head ashamed. My hands rubbed my forehead roughly afraid to look away from Hermione’s back. This felt like it was entirely my fault. Rationally, I knew it wasn’t but the guilt and shame consuming me was stronger than any sense of rationality.

When she did turn around, thick tears were barely being kept back by her eyelashes, and with a single blink multiple teardrops feel down her cheek like heavy hail. Hermione looked at Harry and tried to keep her voice as level as possible, “It means dirty blood. Mudblood’s a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born. Someone with non-magic parents. Someone like me. It’s not a term one usually hears in civilized conversation.” 

Hagrid’s soft but deep rumble gently explained the very reason our parents both died in a war about blood, “See, the thing is, Harry, there’re some wizards, like the Malfoy family, who think they’re better’n everyone else because they’re what people call pure blood.”

“That’s horrible,” Harry gasped at us and met my eyes. I quickly broke eye contact and stared out the window stiffly. My family was one of these families. But they aren’t all bad. They raised me. Surely, they aren’t monsters, right?

My arms were wrapped around my torso tightly and one of my hands was gently resting against my neck. I don’t think that. Do they think I think that, too? I didn’t stand up for her. Merlin, I’m such a coward. I don’t deserve to be in Gryffindor. I’m a total fraud. With a splatter and light thud, Ron’s voice responded, “It’s disgusting.” 

“And it’s codswallop, to boot. Dirty blood. Why, there isn’t a wizard alive today that’s not half blood or less. More ter the point, they’ve yet to think of a spell that our Hermione can’ do,” Hagrid said so firmly that nothing I’ve heard ever sounded more certain, and when I finally looked up from my shoes I saw Hagrid wave teary-eyed Hermione over, “Come here. Don’t you think on it, Hermione. Don’t you think on it for one minute, eh?” 

Hagrid’s warmth broke Hermione’s smile out from under her heavy frown and made the tears running down her cheek look so taboo. Awkwardly, I reached into my robe pocket and pulled out an embroidered handkerchief, with the Vaile and Greengrass crest presented on it. I shakily held out the piece of fabric to my best friend and tried not to look at the ground, “I’m sorry. I…., My family. They are messed up. They aren’t…kind or right about that word. Draco is just trying to be like his father.”

“Draco’s a massive…,” Ron trailed off and gagged on a particularly slimy looking slug, “Git. Dad or not.” 

“It’s okay. You aren’t like them,” Hermione sniffed and used the overpriced handkerchief to dry her cheeks. I nodded back weakly and crossed the hut quickly gathering Hermione in a tight hug. The frizz of her curls tickled my nose, and her body was quivering slightly. I just wish I could protect her.

“Bloody hell,” Ron bubbled out with a slug that landed with a wet plop. Hermione and I both pulled away and cringed at the bubble of slug juice in the corner of Ron’s mouth. Truly, our knight in shining armor. 

☾☾☾☾

The library was one of the best areas of the castle. I wonder if everyone else could feel the pleasant buzz of all the magical energy stored within the thousands of books surrounding you on every side from the floor to the grand arching ceilings. A cave of forgotten knowledge and uncovered secrets wrapping around you. Sometimes I liked to walk up and down the isles, and run my fingers along the spines of the books. The variation of colors, sizes, conditions, and textures were nothing compared to the sheer number of different magical auras within the large room. The flickering candles and large stained glass windows that often were being beaten by rain storms outside, created the perfect ambiance for studying. Well, so long as you don’t get on the librarian’s bad side. 

It also helps to befriend a Ravenclaw. Jareth and his friends have taken me to multiple different tucked away nooks in the library that is removed from people so you don’t have to worry about someone procrastinating by people watching an unaware, self-consumed classmate. The rainy season that brings in the chill of autumn had arrived at Hogwarts making certain areas cozier. As much as I loved sunny days spent outside, the hypnotism of the water wrapping the world in its cocoon was a close second love. The patterning of the rain against the nearby window had lulled me into a deep train of thought. Ever since the squabble with Draco last weekend, my thoughts have been consumed with these two halves of myself. In order for one to survive the other can’t exist because they contradict one another and a twelve-year-old girl can only have so much stored within her. 

“Estelle? Hello?” Jareth prompted kicking my seat from across the table in our tucked-away side room, “How anyone can get distracted from me is hard to understand. Perhaps you should find another tutor.”

“I’m sorry,” I shook my head trying to break my train of thought, and tucked my hair behind my ear from where it fell out the ribbon, “What were you saying?” 

“I was saying your formulas are a lot stronger. You haven’t been here the entire time we’ve been studying,” Jareth complained before softening his voice ever so slightly, “Are you worried about your grades?” 

“No, no,” I shook my head trailing off slightly, returning my gaze to the window before asking in a near whisper, “Can I ask you about something? It’s pretty personal.” 

“Depends,” He shrugged leaning back. He tilted his chair back onto the back legs and used his other hand to rub his neck. Leaning over desks for a long time is exhausting for your neck muscles. Jareth’s lips twitched into the slight smirk that made so many Hogwarts girls swoon over him, “I can’t promise I’ll tell the truth but ask away.” 

“How do you…,” I shook my head rethinking my words, “Are you ever ashamed of the family you come from? What people think when they find out about the home you come from?” 

“Oh, the big question,” He deadpanned letting his chair fall back onto all four legs with a muted thud muffled by the worn carpet.

For a long moment, he was silent and stared at his hands not saying a word. Subconsciously, his hand reached out the wand laying against the worn wooden table and twiddled it between his fingers. It was dark wood with a Gothic looking handle, embossed with a navy blue stone that looked smoother than the lake after a harsh storm. Have I grossly overstepped the boundaries of this friendship? Have I forced him to think about painful memories and fears? But still, I had to know. I couldn’t talk to Harry or Ron or Hermione about this. No-one would ever understand but him. 

“I used to be. I really struggled my first year. Faebian made sure to make my life hell after I didn’t make Slytherin,” Jareth finally spoke, with hazy eyes staring off in the distance as he recalled memories of his older brother’s actions three years ago, “It was a tough pill to swallow, you know. Not being the person my parents wanted, and getting dropped. The Avery’s aren’t exactly known for being calculated with….a gentle touch like the Greengrasses are, ha.” 

It was silent for a moment after his awkward chuckle that lacked any true humor, as he collected his thoughts with a thick swallow of the painful memories. His lip corners twitched downward heavily. But then the golden eyes turned to me. I could see myself reflected in the flickering light in his eyes. The too-small second year wrapped up in her house robes hanging onto his every word fearfully clutching her wand to her chest. 

“But then I met Andrew, who introduced me to the other Ravenclaws in our year. I was kind of an arse to Beck, because of all those rumors about him. We actually fought a lot at first, but I busted his lip and he gave me a black eye and now he’s my brother,” He shrugged, “You have to find your own family, you know.”

“Wait, you two got into a fight and it made you get along?” I gaped openly at the story. His calloused hand from Quidditch muffled the string of laughter from leaking into the still library beyond our nook.

“Guess I had to have my parent’s brainwashing punched out of me,” He joked, but my stiffness at the context of the joke froze the lighthearted tone he had slipped into, “I know how you’re feeling right now. Everyone thinks at least a little of you is bad. You’re an heir to a pureblood family, with a shit past. Hell, you’re the last Vaile. You’re a disappointment to your family. But you can’t please everyone, Estelle. All you can do is try and do what you think is the right thing to do.” 

“But I don’t know what the right thing is! I mean, I don’t agree with my uncle on a lot of the stuff he thinks. He’d be so mad at me if he saw how happy I am being everything he hates at Hogwarts. I don’t want to let them down. I love them. But I love my friends too. I just want to make everyone happy. There has to be some way I can do that,” I fretted tugging and running my fingers through a section of my hair. The knots of black caught on my fingertips but within a moment they would be torn out. 

Jareth closed his eyes and sighed leaning back into his seat, “I don’t want to assume anything but I doubt your family would care this much about making you happy. Why should you care about them? Those kids you hung out with, like Malfoy and Nott, never stopped messing with you at events I went to. Just…think about these questions and don’t overthink it. Does it feel like home? Or do you feel like you're on trial? Would you ever shun anyone in your family if they got into an unexpected house? Who makes you feel better about yourself? Your friends or your family?” 

“My friends,” I blurted out before slamming a hand over my mouth cringing at the loud sound hoping we weren’t about to get yelled at, “Oh, I can’t believe I just admitted that. My family has done so much for me. I sound so ungrateful. I hope no one heard us. I really do love them. I sound like a huge brat.” 

“You don’t. Just saying, you shouldn’t be so scared of your family that fear feels like love. It’s not normal, believe it or not, Mate,” Jareth deadpanned somewhat gruffly. A few minutes passed, as I juggled the conflicting thoughts in my head that threatened to push me into a dizzying breakdown. The discomfort was written on Jareth’s forehead with the way he was stiffly writing some things down on his own homework. The rain beating against the window hammered deafeningly in the echo-y library in a surge of increased strength. It felt like it was storming in solidarity with my own conflicting emotions. 

Twenty minutes of awkwardly silent studying passed with him reviewing his history of magic essays and me trying to understand the corrected mistakes Jareth wrote on my paper before Jareth stretched his somewhat lanky arms over his head and threw his quill down onto the table. Deep purple ink droplets were flung from the tip of his expensive-looking quill. Jareth nodded to me, barely audible over the sound of the thunderstorm attacking the castle outside, and reached into his black leather bag to present me with a small stack of parchment marked with neat penmanship, “I think that’s enough for today. I didn’t realize the time. I want to ask Beatrice Thistle out before curfew. You know her? Curly hair, Hufflepuff fourth year? No? Irrelevant. Just know she’s…very attractive. Anyway, review this. It’s Lance’s old transfiguration notes from second year. He told me you could have them. Just don’t mess them up. Once Andrew got food stains on his notes and Lance didn’t talk to him for almost a month. He’s so anal about them but maybe it will help you actually pass this year.” 

“Um, tell him I said thank you,” I blinked at Jareth’s sudden eruption from his seat and the hurried way he threw his things into his bag, “I’ll see you Wednesday, right?” 

“Yeah, same time. Some of the gang might join us. We have a mammoth ancient runes test the next morning. Just review those notes and try not to embarrass yourself too much in front of McGonagall,” He called over his shoulder from where he had already hustled to the first row of bookshelves leading to the entrance, and dangled his briefcase with the ends of his fingers over his shoulder resting his wrist on the curve of his shoulder. 

“Jareth!” I whispered before he strutted too far away, “Wait!” 

“Merlin, Elle! What do you want?” He bristled, “I have something to do!” 

“Um, sorry, but I just wanted to thank you for talking to me about…everything. I didn’t really know who else to talk to about it,” I blushed feeling my embarrassment burn hotly across my cheeks up into the tips of my ears. 

“Uh, yeah. Anytime,” He nodded softly. His softness was brief and vanished with the rolling of his eyes, and with his ever cocky tone, he called over his shoulder lightly, “Consider yourself lucky you aren’t stuck being brainwashed like the others. Embarrassing honestly.” 

And with his offhanded insult to the society that raised and then promptly shunned us both, he was off to woo one of the witches that caught his eye. Last year he managed to have four different girlfriends by the end of term feast. The reputation of his player mentality was clouded by his overwhelming charm and good looks, much like his best friend, Beckett James. Lavender gets jealous every time I return to the dorm from a tutoring session, but it was impossible to explain how I was immune to their charm. Probably due to the way they treat me like an annoying younger sibling. Just last week Jareth and Beckett tossed my school bag back and forth between them over my head, until Liza got annoyed with the rowdiness and made them stop by punching Beck in the side. 

My head wasn’t filled with anxieties about humiliating myself in Transfiguration the next day or curiosity about the newest witch to be wooed by Jareth. Everything was hung up on the offhanded jab Jareth exited with. Brainwashed? 

The castle felt like it shuttered against the loud boom of a monstrous clap of thunder. Even with a head overflowing with thoughts multiplying quicker than I process the clap of thunder turned me into a mouse from its might. My squeak of surprise was eaten by the thunder. Gently with a mind too distracted to move at a quick pace, I packed all of my things into the bag resting on the seat next to me. I glided through the isles of books, careful not to roll my ankle from the pins and needles feeling numbing my feet but otherwise lost in deep thought. The thunder cleared out my racing head enough to string together a stream of consciousness. It was almost ghost-like how I glided through the library caught between the waking world of students studying and the unseen. 

Brainwashed? Jareth was right. As far as I can remember the adults have taught us about their ideologies with an unquestionable authority that turned opinion into a defining set of truths. The more we understood the way our parent’s defined the world as we developed, the more and more I morphed from a playmate to the daughter of two blood traitors. Their hatred bled into their children’s innocent childhood blackening it with prejudice. Perhaps if I wasn’t branded lesser than from such an early age and forced to wonder if I truly deserved my mistreatment I wouldn’t have ever questioned my Uncle’s ideologies. I could be just as much an untouchable, icy heiress as Daphne or an entitled, privileged ring leader like Draco. I could have gone an entire lifetime without ever experiencing the flaws in our parent’s explanations. My childhood friends were blind. Rather than rage, like Jareth and the other Gryffindor’s felt about the hatred they regurgitated mindlessly, a deep pit of pity hallowed out in my chest. If they ever spoke out or questioned their teachings they could be thrown out from everything they’ve ever known. Just like me. None of them stood a chance. 

I was quite literally jostled out of my train of thought. The colossal bookshelf on my right prevented me from clumsily stumbling to the ground after a pointy shoulder rebounded my entire body off its path. Smooth leather slapped against my uniform covered thigh. My bag swung chaotically slipping off my shoulder until the strap caught on the crook of my elbow. Everything was a blur for a moment. My eyes focused ready to apologize to the person I mindlessly wandered into but the words died in my mouth when I saw a familiar glare aimed at me. 

Draco, surprisingly on his own for once, had his back pressed against the opposite bookcase. Pale, pointy fingers clutched the edge of one of the shelves for support after being knocked off his balance. His cheeks were light pink, and puffing up with each huff of angry breath. If we weren’t in the library I could only assume the things his barely controlled temper would inspire out his mouth. 

“Oh, it’s you,” I winced upon realizing who I knocked into. It was almost like my thoughts summoned him. Almost all the pity I felt for the heir was smothered from the fuming sneer spreading across his face. 

“Me? You are the one too thick to pay attention to where you’re walking,” He sneered and pushed off the bookshelf he was leaning against.

There was a moment of tense silence while Draco retrieved his school bag from where it had fallen on the aged floor and roughly slapped off nonexistent dirt. His anger was too great for his movements to hold any grace or gentleness. I wondered if I should just walk away while he straightened out his robes but he turned his focus back to me cutting off any ideas of sneaking away. 

“Heard Weasley finally stopped vomiting slugs. Ha,” Draco sneered tone hardening with every syllable and stepped closer to me and raised his eyebrows up and down tauntingly, “Bet he knows his place now.” 

“How could you say that to Hermione? You can’t just say that to people. It’s serious,” I asked softly, finally getting a chance to voice my surprise. Draco rolled his eyes at my disbelief at his hate speech. 

“You didn’t have very much to say at the Manor this summer when I said it. No one’s around. You can stop with this little act, Vaile,” Draco said quietly, immediately making me stutter out unintelligible sounds of protest. I tried my best to keep my anger to a whisper level. 

“It’s not an act! Hermione is my friend! I never thought you would call someone that to their face. It’s bad,” I angrily whispered, freezing in fear when someone walked past our aisle. There was a brief moment of relief that it wasn’t Pierce but Draco’s arrogant mannerisms filled me with anger. He was leaning against the shelf as if he owned the entire library and was eyeing me.

“Lying doesn’t change that this little act pretending you weren’t raised to believe Granger’s just another mudblood isn’t true, Vaile. I wonder what Granger would say if she knew who you really are. You played muggle hunter with us too,” Draco taunted a childhood game over me, “You and I both know if you were actually able to get into Slytherin like you hoped that you would never defend someone like that.” 

“I feel sorry for you,” I spat out trying my best to remain calm at the horrifying insinuations, “You are never going to get away from your parent’s brainwashing. Maybe if you actually questioned them for once you wouldn’t look so embarrassing.” 

His lips pursed together tightly at my angry dig, but before he had a chance to respond I stomped toward the end of the aisle having him behind. Refusing to let me have the last word, Draco seethed at the unexpected refusal to let him under my skin and went for a cheap shot, “You’re just jealous my family actually loves me. Stupid blood traitor!” 

Despite his hurtful comment, I couldn’t help the feeling of pride that began to blossom within my chest. My meekness and weakness failed to let Draco walk all over me like the rest of my life. For the first time, I stood up to Draco’s warpath.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Muddy Weekend

The week had passed by quickly, and Hermione, Ron, Harry, and myself all sat around a cherry-stained wooden table near the staircase filling out another short essay questionnaire about Lockhart’s book detailing his adventure’s with ghouls. Hermione’s quill scratched against her parchment angrily ready to burst if one of us asked her for another of her answers. As if she wasn’t aware of his actions Ron had sneaked enough glances at her paper that he was nearly finished with the assignment as well. Harry, exhausted from the relentless quidditch practice and drills from Wood, was lazily writing responses pausing to let out a long yawn every now and then. 

“Oh god, this can’t be serious. ‘ _How has Gilderoy Lockhart’s bravery and creative resourcefulness inspired your own life as a young witch or wizard_?” Ron grunted mockingly reading off the final question on the page, “Could he be more out of it?” 

“Ron!” Hermione bristled pausing mid-word, “Lockhart is an extremely successful wizard who’s done things you could never dream of. You’re just jealous.” 

“Jealous? He’s a moron, ‘mione. I think he proved it with the pixies. Do you remember the look on his face?” Ron gagged in disgust, before leaning over to see what she wrote for the question and widened his eyes, “Merlin, all you had to put was a paragraph. Not six!” 

“A minor slip up. Besides, they don’t just give out the Order of Merlin to anyone, right Elle?” Hermione argued, forcing me into the debate. Sometimes I hated when Merlin came up. Everyone expected me to know everything about the medieval druid. 

“Don’t look at me. I know just as much about that as everyone else. He got third class. It could just be for the entertainment value. Besides, a lot of the things he says in his books about magical creatures aren’t true,” I reluctantly disagree, fearful to have Hermione’s temper turned onto my direction. The third class is for major contributions to knowledge or entertainment. 

“The other professors can’t stand him,” Harry added in a tired voice, “Snape looks ready to strangle him when Lockhart is around him.” 

“Can’t say I blame him,” Ron joked to Harry before puffing up his chest comically, “Oh, Harry, one day you might reach a point like I have that you need to keep a stack of signed headshots handy but right now you look a tag bigheaded.” 

In a comically deep voice, I added with the dramatic twirl of my wrist, “Extra points to whoever can tell me exactly how I maintain such beautiful hair. Three weeks and counting for Best Hair in Witch Weekly!” 

“Using occamy egg yolks in his shampoo is extremely impressive,” Hermione scowled, refusing to look up from her homework. Ron dramatically rolled his eyes and slowly figured out how to lie about Lockhart inspiring him. 

“And ridiculous! Occamies are super protective of their eggs,” I said with the bite of annoyance peeking out of my voice. 

“As long as he leaves me alone, he can do whatever he wants with his hair,” Harry muttered, catching up to the rest of us while we were distracted. Wood’s relentless drilling beat last year's frenzy after Malfoy revealed their new advantage. The bags under Harry’s eyes were nearly as dark as the rims of his glasses. 

Ron and I quickly fell back into mimicking different things the professor had said over the past month, much to Hermione’s annoyance and Harry’s amusement. There were even a few snickers from the students within hearing distance. Once we ran out of material we bounced ideas about the final question off of each other. Even exhausted Harry joined in. Lockhart would probably think Ron’s joke response was serious. I put in mine that I was inspired to dye my hair blonde to match his. But for every classmate that found Lockhart’s antics irritating, there was someone wrapped up in his fame and glory. Mostly female students were transfixed by the man’s presence and there were male some students that found him extremely inspiring. 

Eventually, Ron and I grew bored with our antics and focused on finishing the DADA assignment as quickly as possible. Harry had even passed me up while I was joking around. The jabs at her celebrity crush were quickly brushed aside by Hermione happy to join our flow of casual conversation. Moments spent in the soothingly comfortable common room were some of the best parts of being at Hogwarts. 

Ron was trying to convince us to play a round of exploding snap with him when Oliver Wood strolled up to our table. Harry’s entire fatigued body tensed fearing he would order Harry to sneak out with him to run drills despite the thunderstorm outside. The Quidditch Captain was somewhat twitchy as he peered down at me curled up in a chair with my uniform robes draped over me like a blanket. Harry’s eyebrows pulled together trying his best to understand what interest Wood found in me. 

“Estelle Vaile, right?” Wood asked me but looked to Harry for confirmation, who nodded silently, “I’ve been wanting to have a little chat with you, if that’s alright?” 

My stunned reaction slowed my response long enough for Wood to shift awkwardly at the second year staring at him before I awkwardly responded blushing at the attention of the cute, teenage boy, “Yes, that’s fine.” 

“I heard you spent the summer with Malfoy,” Wood asked ignoring the way the topic instantly made me tense up, in a serious tone I had heard Fred and George mock a few times in the common room after practice, “Fred and George tried to spy on the team but I bet you could get some real information to help us beat those prats, even with their new brooms. Do you think you could get some information to help out your house?” 

“I doubt it,” I winced, shaking my head. Ever since earlier this week and my run in with Draco the glares sent my way by the Malfoy heir were even angrier than normal and took any chance he could to mock me. Theodor Nott used his magic to move a bag into the isles between desks to trip me in front of the entire class. I knew it was him from the proud smile on his face, and the way he revealed in Draco’s laughter. 

Wood looked frustrated and pressed on, “Your house really needs you. You are the only person that can get us a leg up against them.” 

“Wood, the only time Malfoy talks to us is to insult us,” Harry came to my defense. I nodded my thanks for coming to my aid not familiar with his famous intensity about the sport. Wood glanced up at the ceiling and let out a long sigh with all the air in his lungs. Guilt started to nag at how unuseful I was being for my friends. Maybe if I got information about the other team I would impress George too. 

Awkwardly, I spoke to the defeated looking teenager ever eager to help, “He did make me run drills with him all summer. I kind of know his weak points.” 

“He did?” Wood snapped his head back down to me wide-eyed, “Come to the next practice. You’re going to tell us everything. You might just have saved the season, Estelle!” 

And with his dramatic burst, Wood reached over and planted an aggressive smooch to my forehead. My head spun from the yank forward by his muscular arms. The bright red flush and frozen state he caused with the forehead kiss went over his head. There was a gleeful cheer, and Wood bounded up the stairs leading to the boy’s dormitory immune to the stares of the entire house. 

When Wood was no longer in sight to stare at everyone’s eyes turned to me unsure of what just happened. The heat of my cheeks grew hotter and hotter with each second of silence. Overwhelmed by the attention of the house, I threw my head into my arms resting on the table in front of me. There was a muffled squeak that managed to weasel out from the thick wall of black hair. The buzz of the common room slowly returned, and I tried to force my face to cool off. My pale skin offered no protection from the red blush of embarrassment. 

“Wood’s lost it ever since we learned about the Nimbus 2001’s,” Harry explained. I slowly lifted my head up from my arms and saw the others staring at me in a mixture of pity and surprise. 

“Clearly,” Hermione winced, “I haven’t seen Elle ever turn that red so quickly. Even around George.”

“Hermione!” I hissed only relaxing after George showed no sign of overhearing the comment. George, Fred, and Lee were longing on a sofa discussing something with animated expressions and laughter. 

“Wait, Malfoy made you run drills with him?” Ron grimaced pointedly ignoring the comment about his brother.

“It’s just as bad as you think it’d be,” I muttered, “And he doesn’t play fair.” 

“Let’s hope you know enough to give us a chance,” Harry responded looking grim. 

“Don’t worry, Harry. You could fly circles around Drac-Malfoy with a splintered dusty broom,” I tried to motivate him. Harry shook his head and ran a hand through his hair looking far from motivated. 

☾☾☾☾

“Ms. Vaile, can we have a chat before you head out?” Professor Sprout called over the chattering of her second-year class exiting the greenhouse for the week barely looking up from the deceased looking plant leaves she was inspecting, “Just a quick chat.”

“Yes, Professor?” I asked politely to walk up to her. The white webs on the large leaves were soaked with a minty smelling spray and quickly steamed off. The purple glass spritzer was placed down by Sprout next to a small pile of mulch.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry waited for me near the exit with a range of curious expressions on their slightly dirty faces. There was no concern or worry on their faces like there normally would be if a teacher held me back, which McGonagall has done more than once to discuss my poor performance. But with Sprout, I out ‘teacher’s pet’-ed Hermione. It would have been hard to be tense around the Head of Hufflepuff regardless. Sprout smiled at me warmly. I had only seen a few people manage to not return her welcoming smile. Draco is one of them, obviously.

“I’ve noticed how well you handle yourself in the greenhouse and I wanted to know if you’d be interested to join my Herbology club. Can’t give free rein over a lot of the plants in our greenhouse to the students but Dumbledore lets me pick a handful of students to give me a hand. Now it’s up to you if you want to balance helping out with your school work but-,” Sprout lectured in a serious, but warm tone but I cut her off with an excited squeal and a small jump of happiness. My poor composure would have been scolded at home. Her smile grew observing how overjoyed the invitation made me. Ever since Jasper stopped paying for the gardeners at my greenhouse back home because of my sorting, I haven’t been able to truly dive into herbology beyond the three times a week in class.

“I would love to! When’s the first meeting?” I squealed. My hands, slightly muddy from the lesson, were clasped together tightly against my chest. It was somewhat shocking that she chose such a poor student in my opinion. But my insecurities were being dusted off and polished with how proud the offer made me feel.

Sprout chuckled at my enthusiasm and handed me a dirt smudged flyer with a time table. It was handwritten in a neat cursive that I knew didn’t belong to Sprout. I wonder if one of the club members makes the schedule. Sprout rarely picks from houses other than Hufflepuff. It kind of made sense if the rumors about their common room being decorated to the brim with plants. No one made a fuss about it like they do with Snape’s favoritism.

The tips of my fingers held the parchment like I could look at it the wrong way and it would turn into a cloud of dust. It felt like a precious, delicate treasure. Sprout learned over and with a gloved hand started to point to different slots with my name written in the blanks, “Well, it’s more work shifts than meetings. Your first spot is tomorrow morning at eight A.M. sharp, with two of my upper-classmen to show you the basics. Until you are a bit older you are going to be assisting those two older students. Let’s see how you fit with this timetable and fiddle with it if we got to. Now, I’m sure you don’t want me taking up your lunch break. We can go over the details tomorrow. It seems like your little friends are getting impatient, Ms. Vaile.”

Carefully folding the slip of paper and storing it in the small front pocket of my school bag, I attempted to grab onto a little grace and manners in my state of awe. I had to force myself to walk away from the herbology master but politely said, “Thank you so much. This is amazing! I can’t wait to get started tomorrow.

“Alrighty, lass. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget to wear clothes you can get dirty,” Sprout laughed shooing me off. Her attention focused on the sage plant before her.

The light snip of gardening scissors snapped as I walked over to the back doorway, with a large vine creeping along it. Sprout could no longer see my expression but my waiting friends could very clearly see the nearly mad smile. It was so wide that my cheeks were already starting to protest from the strain. Harry’s curiosity peeked out from behind his circle framed glasses. Hermione’s wrist was captured by my hand shooting through the doorway into the grassy clearing, with Ron and Harry following me dragging Hermione. My feet, amazingly, never tripped over themselves or the uniform robes jostling around because of the fast paced stride away from the greenhouse. The questions of my friends at my peculiar mood were ignored until we reached the stone breezeway. Hermione pulled her wrist from my hand to rub it tenderly. A sharp squeal pierced the air. The group of first-year Slytherins pulled their most repulsed look upon realization of who exactly created the shrill noise. Still being timid first years they stomped away from my show. The two seventh year Gryffindor boys, who I forgot the names of, seemed amused by their small housemates. My friends gawked at me bewildered. Reaching out to my closest friend, Harry, I placed both hands on his shoulders and with a louder squeal, my body bounced in place in excitement. His height was perfect to propel me into the air slightly. Only when he stumbled did I force myself to calm down. Jasper would have my head if he saw me acting so undignified.

“Sprout asked if I wanted to join the herbology club! She’s letting me help out in the greenhouses. Me! Estelle Cordelia Vaile! Have you ever heard anything more exciting?” I announced breathlessly from the jumping. A few strands of hair fell from the ribbon and tickled my cheeks. My hands clasped together against my chest. The cold air of the incoming autumn was sharp in my panting lungs.

“Congratulations, Elle,” Harry smiled brightly. He reached over and patted my shoulder. I could tell he was excited for me. It must be how he felt when he became a seeker last year.

There was a small pause of the others understanding what I said and Ron’s eyebrows pulled together, “Wait, isn’t that just more homework?”

“Wow, Elle!” Hermione smiled, “Sprout only allows her best students to join. I told you that you were great in herbology.”

“Yeah, you are the only one who actually likes those mandrakes,” Ron added. Harry’s eyebrows raised and he nodded at the statement. Harry wasn’t the biggest fan of the mandrake infants.

I felt my face flush at the unfamiliar, academic praise, “Just wait until they are teenagers. I’ve read some wild stories. Let’s go get some lunch.”

☾☾☾☾

I beat the other two members to Greenhouse One the next morning. Sprout was nowhere to be seen either. In all fairness, I had arrived over forty-five minutes early. It took all my willpower not to show up earlier. Sleep was impossible to achieve with so much anticipation swelling onto me that it felt like I could burst into a million giddy bits. Bernard’s tail twitched, and his amber eyes were narrowly glaring at me from the window seat illuminated by the half-moon. The restlessness of my limbs kept him from sleeping at the foot of my bed, where he could still feel the warmth of the furnace in the center of the room. There must have been lucky stars in the sky that night because my jittering tossing and turning never broke my dorm mate’s dozing. It was just before dawn that I pulled Bernard into my lap on the window seat to gaze out the Gryffindor tower together. The grounds below were dusted with the still, silent ethereality only born in the early hours right before daybreak. Before the rays of youthful dawn could chase out the peace of twilight, another thunderstorm unleashed on the castle smothering the warmth of the morning.

The storming had been relentless since the end of September. It tirelessly towed in the chilly autumn with cool dampness and gooey mud that overwhelmed the flowerbeds and courtyards. I was lucky to have not caught a cold like so many students. In every hall, there was at least one pillar of steam rising from a student’s ears after downing a Pepperup Potion. I felt sorry for Ginny Weasley who turned into a humanized tomato after Percy bullied her into taking some. The paleness of her skin as of late turned bright red, and with the steam rising from her ears, she looked just like the fire blazing in the Gryffindor fireplace.

The crashes of thunder and lighting muffed the stressed raid of my day clothes from waking my dorm mates fully. Pavarti stumbled to close the curtains around her bed to muffle the storm but she didn’t exactly seem conscious. Waking them up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday was so impolite to me that the stress of trying to figure out a suitable outfit from the selection of posh, stiff skirts and dresses only intensified. My entire trunk was messily thrown onto my bed by the time I figured out which dress would be the most comfortable to garden in. It was a grey, beige, and maroon pinafore dress, with a chunky knit, ochre turtleneck, and thick maroon tights to keep out the moist chill of the greenhouses. Hopefully, the tannish orange was close enough to brown that it wouldn’t stain from mud smears. I even added a grey beret to keep warm.

By the time I got to the greenhouse, the mistake of forgetting to wear a raincoat in the blur of my anticipation was impossible to ignore. The clothes soaked from rainwater clung to my pale, goose prickled skin. The wooden stool was difficult to get comfortable in, and the book laid on the table in front of me was decorative at best. It was a fool’s ambition to attempt to read a transfiguration self tutoring book with the ticking of my watch. As the hands inched closer and closer to the number eight, my body refused to sit in polite, patience like I’d been raised to do. Soon, I was buzzing around the greenhouse, leaving a light trail of water droplets falling from the end of the plaid dress. Greenhouse One brought back memories of first-year herbology lessons. Greenhouse One was the classroom for the inexperienced first years for a reason. The plants growing here made no threats to the witches and wizards tending to them.

The mint in the corner was threatening to suffocate the catnip in the box next to it. Mint grows like a weed and could overtake an entire greenhouse if you let it. A small, yellow snail the size of a strawberry was resting under the canopy of mint leaves above it. The slimy creature wiggled in my fingers until I placed it onto the long wooden table near my book. My nose wrinkled slightly at the sight of the tiny snail nibbling on the leaf of spinach I held out to it. Pansy always thought I was such a freak for caring for small, crawly critters in the gardens of our wealthy homes.

I loved the silent things of the world that went so frequently forgotten. It seems the more our society develops the more the natural world mimic’s the noticeability of air. Nothing more than a hushed whisper consumed by the chaos of the world. But to me, the untamed, silence of the natural world screamed. And would scream until my mind filled with nothing but it’s silent song. Things like snails, the dampness of the mossy earth, or plants that grew with or without the allure of blossoms soothed me. Vaile’s were known to be attuned with nature but it felt wrong to write this connectivity off as inheritance from a family shrouded with countless questions. When I am surrounded by things that held such quiet beauty yet remained as an afterthought I didn’t feel so forgotten.

The bubble of serenity was broken with the quick swing of the squeaky door. The door’s bang after colliding with the planter behind it ripped me from my thoughts so abruptly I dropped the nibbled leaf onto the table. Not about to give up breakfast the snail slithered to the edge of the leaf and kept munching. Two tall figures stumbled into the greenhouse, with faces hidden under hoods. The girl wore a tan rain jacket, with little bluebirds along the cuffs and rim of the hood. Wavy honey hair tumbled from the dryness of the hood and was slick against the jacket from moisture. The taller of the two wore long green wizarding robes that reminded me of the one’s Draco used to practice quidditch on rainy days.

“Not the best way to start the day,” The male student chuckled, closing the door behind them with the swing of his wrist. Both of them were shaking the water off and stomping the mud caked to their shoes off after running across the small field leading to the greenhouses.

“If it doesn’t stop raining soon, we might have to swim to class,” The girl joked warmly and despite it being a bad joke, the boy and I both laughed politely.

The moment she pulled down her hood and faced me I recognized her. She was Lavender’s cousin, Margret Brown. She had a lot of the same Brown features as her cousin, like the thick, honey-brown hair, peachy skin, small lips, and thin straight eyebrows. But her hair was straight with the slightest kink of waves and thick bangs, while Lavender's was springy curls. Her nose was more upturned, and further apart eyes. She was very tall and lithe, unlike her average height cousin. I knew the toned state of her jean covered legs was because she was training to be a professional ballerina. Andrew even said that her instructor is allowed to come to Hogwarts to train her every two days. She had to be talented to earn such a privilege.

“Good morning,” She smiled walking over to where I sat, “I’m Margret Brown. You’re dorming with my cousin, Lavender? Sprout sent Cedric and I down to show you the ropes.”

I wonder if she could tell I already knew who she was. It would probably scare her if she knew how much I knew about her without ever talking to her. Andrew Nickles had sat with her their first-year train ride into Hogwarts and he’s been in love with her since. She had no idea the way her friend gushed about her when she wasn’t around. Or the way his friends messed with him about his secret pinning. He wasn’t the only one who had a crush on her. She was a pretty, pureblood ballerina prodigy that was nice to everyone. It only made sense she had a lot of suitors. I’m pretty sure she’s dating a sixth year Gryffindor named Sam Hudson, though. Andrew couldn’t compete with a guy two years older than him.

“Hi, I’m Cedric Diggory,” Cedric, the golden boy of Hogwarts, waved at me. Cedric’s handsome smile only made it so much clearer why so many girls simpered after him. Jareth and Beckett were both heartthrobs, of course, but the princely goodness of Cedric’s appeal was undetectable in that duo. They were more rebellious bad boy types. Cedric was in the same year as Jareth and his company, along with Fred and George.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Estelle,” I introduced myself shyly, “I got here a little early. I hope that’s okay.”

“It looks like you already took care of that mint,” Cedric peered around in case I messed with anything and nodded in approval at the repotted mint. My teeth rattled and chilled from the early autumn temperature seeping into the wet clothes plastered to my skin. Cedric glanced at the clenched jaw. The sound of Jasper’s voice scolding me for being air headed and unprepared only made the creep of inferiority over my shoulders from meeting extremely popular upper class-men thicken.

My excitement diluted itself in the insecure shame building as the silence faded to discomfort. Cedric scanned the greenhouse. Margret pulled some tools from the carved, wooden cabinet speckled with algae blooming in the cracks with a clatter of metal banging together. I just stood awkwardly trying my best not to shiver. Etiquette lessons always talked about how important first impressions are. Cedric and Margret seemed unbothered by the silence but I felt the nagging feeling that I needed to be doing more.

A deep yawn led into Cedric stretching his quidditch toned arms over his head before unfastening the weather appropriate outer robes. Under was a perfectly dry jumper from a Quidditch summer camp and a pair of jeans stained with smears of faded green and brown. Draco wanted to go to that camp but Lucius said it was for low-class children to be babysat while their parents worked and hired a private flying instructor for his son. Maybe it could have humbled Draco before it was too late if he attended as a child. The seat under me was damp from my tights and made the under-thigh area touching it clammy. It could have been mistaken for the moist greenhouse but I could smell the dampness of the wool pinafore dress.

Cedric took a step closer to me and raised his wand directly pointed at me. Another deep yawn stilled him from casting something at me. Instinctively, my entire body fletched with a mousy squeak bracing for a curse. My Aunt Fiona’s furious eyes flashed in my head. The noise of shock made Marget look up from the end of the long table and widened her eyes almost comically.

Cedric didn’t notice my squeak over his yawn and moved his wand in a rapid circle a few times at the fletching second year in front of him, “Sharakus.”

A warm gust of wind blew my hair behind me. The tip of Cedric’s wand poured out the intense stream of warm air with enough force that I stumbled backward a few centimeters. I could feel the dampness clinging to the fabric of my clothing dry up until there wasn’t even a drop of moisture in the fabric. Instead, it felt like it had been warmed in front of a fire before slipping it on. The beret flying behind me was the only negative result of the spell.

“Oops, didn’t mean to scare you, Estelle! I’ve been wanting to try out that spell,” Cedric chuckled rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, before leaning down and picking up the fallen beret. His calloused hands brushed off the dirt before handing it to me.

“Next time you should probably ask, Ced,” Margret smirked with the roll of her eyes. Feeling heat rise in my cheeks, I pulled the beret onto my skull forcefully.

“You’re probably right. She looked cold, though,” He shrugged, and hoisted himself onto the table as a seat and rested his feet on the stool nearby. His boots looked like they were caked with both fresh and old mud. They must be his gardening shoes.

“I forgot to grab my rain robes. I was…a little excited for my first meeting,” I admitted knowing my face must have been bright red.

“I get it. I was the same way. But word of advice, maybe wear some jeans or work clothes next time. It can get messy in here,” Cedric advised, in a tone that wasn’t patronizing but genuinely friendly.

“I, uh,” I felt myself go tongue-tied and flushed knowing I had nothing of the sort in my possession, “I don’t own any jeans. Or work clothes really. My Uncle is a bit …old fashioned about that sort of thing.”

Cedric opened his mouth to respond but the words must have died in his mouth because he just looked at me desperately trying to figure out what to say to the younger club member. Maybe Hermione’s family could get me some muggle jeans if I send them some money, but how would I get my key from Jasper? Or does Narcissa still have it?

“Oo! I have some stuff that should fit you,” Margret smiled with a happy grin now standing on the other side of the table from me, and I could see every freckle across the bridge of her nose that Andrew claimed looked prettier than the constellations in the sky. He got made fun of for a while about that one.

“Oh, no I couldn’t take your things. That’s too nice,” I shook my head. The tightness of discomfort at the kindness she offered so freely was hard to miss in my tone.

She must have picked up on the discomfort, and laughed warmly at my statement with the gentle wave of her hand, “Don’t even worry about it. You’d actually be doing me a huge favor. I’ve been trying to rehome these clothes for ages. Lavender doesn’t like my hand-me downs anymore. Seriously, you would be helping me out.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know,” I trailed off.

“You should take her up on the offer. Herbology Club looks out for each other. There aren’t exactly many of us. Only seven. Plus, the three of us are going to be working together for a while,” Cedric gave me a charming half-smile and there was no possibility of denying the kindness after that. I nodded, wishing I could be as relaxed and outgoing as they were.

Margret smiled brightly and clapped her hands, “Perfect! My mum is going to be thrilled when she hears I finally cleaned out my old clothes. She was on my case all summer holiday! You can just come back to the Hufflepuff Commonroom with us after we finish up. Today Sprout mostly wanted us to go over the rules and expectations and take care of a few little things, like cleaning up the mint supply.”

“Won’t I get in trouble if I go into the Hufflepuff common room?” I asked and they both laughed and shook their heads.

“Most of the time half the people in the common room aren’t even Hufflepuff,” Cedric explained why my comment was so funny. The entire greenhouse shook suddenly from the explosion from the stormy skies above us, with a few flashes of white light.

“It’s raining pixies and gnomes out there. Hopefully, it will be over by the time we finish up,” Margret commented looking up at the glass roof. We all silently agreed as another boom shook the structure.

“Oh yeah. I nearly forgot. This is for you,” Cedric shook his head and stuffed his hand into his pant’s pocket before pulling out a small golden piece of metal and held it out to me, “Now you’re official. Wear that during shifts and deliveries. A lot of us wear it all the time though, sort of like a prefect badge I guess. Some people don’t because Professors sometimes send you to the greenhouse on an errand but they normally give house points when they do. Kind of makes me wish there were pins for the quidditch players.”

The tips of Cedric’s fingers brushed my palm lightly but I still felt the smallest bit of warmth from his skin against my clammy skin. In the middle of my hand was a vermeil brooch, gold plated silver, with three guilloché green leaves arching over each other’s golden stems made of thin curved metal rods, fastened together by a strip of metal carved to look like ribbon. On each of the shiny leaves, there was a letter. HHC, for Hogwart’s Herbology Club. It was obviously old and in need of polishing based on the blackened metal in the crevices and where pieces overlapped. I nearly pricked the pad of my fingers with the speed I tried to pin it onto my thick, dress strap.

“Yay!” Margret cheered with perky applause. She is one of the few people that could do something like that and not come off as ditsy. Well, perhaps a little ditsy but she could pull it off. Cedric and Margret both had their own matching three-leaf brooch on their sweaters, which I failed to notice earlier. Margret’s looked like she regularly polished hers.

Cedric and Margaret went over the rules with me. They explained the official rules and which of them were… flexible. For example, it was forbidden to bring any clippings of a plant back to your dorm to propagate it but that rule really only mattered for the dangerous, magical plants. If it could negatively affect your dorm mate if they aren’t knowledgeable about the plant it’s best to just leave it in one of the greenhouses. The rule about finding someone to cover for your shift a full day in advance is more out of respect and consideration of your fellow club members than a punishable offense. Not bringing nonmembers along during your assignments was a rule but it wasn’t strictly enforced, especially if Sprout likes you. Just don’t get caught snogging near the color-changing roses like one of the older members had last year or you could be put on probation. There were strict rules like no planting anything without permission, no selling or stealing anything grown in the greenhouses, always keeping the inventory up to date, always wearing the pin while on duty, and always bringing another member if you are working in greenhouse five and above unless you are a sixth or seventh year.

Once the two Hufflepuffs were sure they had gone over everything important, and everything less important as well, they helped me figure out which days I should request to work. Since I am tutored by Jasper Sunday, Wednesday, and sometimes Fridays in the evenings, it was decided that Tuesday’s during lunch, Thursday evenings, and Saturday mornings would be the best times for me to work. I would be working with Margret on Tuesdays, Cedric on Thursdays, and most likely both of them Saturday morning. Sometimes the president of the club, a Ravenclaw named Sarah Earl, would probably be using me as a filler where she needed it since I was the youngest and newest member.

It was lunchtime by the time we finished all the chores for the day. Every time I moved my arms the smell of all the herbs we had trimmed, washed, and strung up to dry floated into my nostrils. Sage. Parsley. Chamomile. The magical energy of Hogwarts must give everything that takes root on its grounds enough magic by proxy that the potency exceeds what most herbalists would consider extremely potent strains. The most tedious part of the chores was using the thin, rough string to tie groups of 5-10 stems together before stringing them up to hang from the ceiling. Before we hung the freshly cut herbs, we had to cut down the previously dried harvest, store them in jars, and update the inventory of the storage basement under Greenhouse One and Three. The number of jars almost bursting with dried plants required over twenty long shelves lined up in rows in the slightly musty cellar.

Luckily, Cedric and Margret had enough experience with updating the dried stocks that they knew exactly how to make it entertaining, and speedy so we could still go enjoy our Saturday. There was a busted up, red radio connected to the Wizarding Wireless Network stored in the algae-covered armoire that the herbology club members had been using for such a long time that even the oldest member, Sarah Earl, said it was just as beat up and weathered her first year at Hogwarts. Three initials were carved into it, R.J.L, but other than that there was nothing but the mystery about the origins of the radio. During the shift, I found out that Cedric was just as big a fan of the all witch band Spellbound as I was. Uncle Jasper hated their pop-rock fusion music and being able to blare their songs was a nice change of pace from listening to it softly in the garden or the corner of my bathroom. Cedric and I had a pleasant debate over if Spellbound or The Rhythmic Runes were a better band, with Cedric defending TRR.

I wonder if Andrew already knew what a mega-fan Margret was over Celestina Warbeck, but from the over the top reaction over one of the singer’s songs coming on it is hard to believe he didn’t. Margaret took to the rhythm and beat of music like a fish to water. Even the way she swayed mindlessly revealed the plethora of dancing talent overflowing from her. Her special headmaster approved dance lessons were clearly well earned. I hope she likes me enough one day, hopefully, to let me watch a dance that’s actually choreographed. The way she moved on her feet through the air made it seem like invisible wings were hovering her just over the ground.

Cedric was right about the stiff dress, and the amount of dirt smudged into the fabric backed up his statement by the time we finished for the day. Even the warm tones of the sweater didn’t hit the nearly black dirt stains. Who was I kidding with that theory?

The rain hadn’t lightened the attack against the earth for a moment. My shock was badly masked when Margret remembered to bring me to the Hufflepuff dormitories to try on some of her old clothes. Perhaps I need to be more confident in how memorable I am to others. But it was probably because of how kindhearted she was.

Cedric, Marget, and I all walked together spotted with grass and mud stains and rain dampened hair to their common room. Every hall we walked into at least three people waved or said hello to the popular upperclassmen. I was stuck in a state flipping back and forth between jealousy and awe. Maybe when I’m older and less awkward I can be as well-liked as them. Maybe wearing Margret’s clothes rather than the pretentious designer robes will make me cooler. Fat chance. I could never be this popular. It seems like being lovable and attractive were traits they were blessed with at birth to use limitlessly, and effortlessly here on earth.

After taking a set of stairs down from the great hall, we entered a long hallway brightly lit with multiple cheerful food-themed paintings, a large bronze suit of armor, and a large stack of wooden barrels. Once we reached the middle of the corridor, both Margret and Cedric paused and looked at me, probably with a confused expression to match the feelings about where they were leading me. Cedric pulled out his wand once more, and without making me flinch this time pointed it at me. I had a feeling I should get used to having his wand thrown about.

“I’m going to cast a silence bubble charm around you. That way you won’t know how to get into the common room without a Hufflepuff. Just close your eyes and we’ll guide you and let you know when to open,” Cedric explained with a small smirk, sharing a glance with Marget.

Absolute silence overwhelmed me, and even though Margret and Cedric both moved their mouths I could not hear a single sound. I gently closed my eyes after Margret placed her notably soft hands that smelt like vanilla and honey, despite all the gardening we had done, over my eyes delicately while guiding my blind steps with her other hand. We paused after five or ten steps for a moment. There was a small tap of what felt like a wand against my forehead, and the sound rushed back into my head so quickly I almost felt dizzy from it.

Margret’s hands were still covering my eyes but she instructed softly near my ear, “Alright. There is a small step up into the entrance you are going to have to crawl through. Once you're in the tunnel you can open your eyes so you don’t fall, we just do this so the location of our dorms are still a little secretive. Cedric’s already on the other side. You can probably hear my house already. Weekends get pretty rowdy around here.”

“Careful. Careful. Ah, there you go,” Margret couched me as I raised my left foot clumsily until the bottom of my shoe found a weathered stone textured ledge.

Her toned arms helped me crawl into the entrance, and after a few scoots of movement, I opened my eyes. I was in a beige, smooth stone passageway leading to a partly opened door that looked like a massive barrel, with warm, golden light and lively sounds leaking into the small crawl space teasing me toward it with its warmth. When I reached the end of the crawl space, Margret told me to just hop out from behind me and I did as she asked, landing in the Hufflepuff common room with as much grace as possible after crawling in. Cedric steadied me from almost falling over, but I hardly noticed, overwhelmed with everything to take in about the hidden space.

The intensity and perfection of the concept of comforting warmth was the first thing anyone would notice at first glance. Everything that made me think the Gryffindor common room was the warmest, coziest place at Hogwarts was challenged and defeated by the Hufflepuffs. The common room was a massive, circular room with many nests visible through archways and two large doors on either side leading to the dorms. Everything in the area was bustling with life and joy. The walls were painted a pleasant light yellow, with beautiful murals of nature where there weren’t colorful portraits, wall plants, or house themed draperies. It was earthy, with a low ceiling painted to look like the sky that made the room so much cozier. Since it was the basement the circular windows with deep window stills showed the vibrant grass dancing in the wind, with dandelions bobbing along and the occasional pair of rain boots. Even with the gloomy forecast, it felt like the brightest, warmest day of summer, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it always felt like that. There was a large chandelier that looked like the sun casting everything below it in a perfect golden hour tone. The artificial sunlight clearly worked wonders on the abundance of plant life that outnumbered the Hufflepuff student body.

There were plants everywhere possible, and there was even an old apple tree in the corner arching its branches over some of the overstuffed, yellow velvet sofas and armchairs. Butterflies fluttered from plant to plant gracefully. There was a portrait of who I can only assume to be Helga Hufflepuff chatting with some first years over the large fireplace.

In another corner was a large, warm-toned wooden table carved with bumblebees, butterflies, and flowers, covered by a light yellow linen tablecloth embroidered with badgers covered in baked goods, fruits, and various snacks. There was even a bright yellow tea set floating around serving what looked like steaming hot cocoa to the students. There are small, more private cubbies off the main room. There were around fifteen, with some housing homework desks and bookshelves and others with loveseats and games. These cubbies looked like little nests because of the way you step down into them.

The sound of laughter and music saturated the air so much that you could almost taste the happiness born here. By the time I gathered my wits, Cedric had found his way over to his quidditch teammates in one of the cubbies but Margret patiently waited for me to take everything in. I spotted some of the Hufflepuffs in my own year doing a double-take at my presence in their common room but they all moved on and lost interest pretty quickly. Must have been normal for non-house members to drop in. Hannah Abbott waved at me with the hand that wasn’t cradling a yellow teacup of steaming hot chocolate with a smile. I returned it shyly.

“Let’s go raid my closet already,” Margret smiled excitedly, beckoning me to follow her.

There was a slight hop to her stride every few strides like she was subconsciously skipping. Her movements almost looked insane but in the same way, puppies are adorable when they try to be a guard dog. She waved happily at a group of girls braiding flowers into their hair and had to duck slightly to avoid hitting her head on a lower hanging ceiling plant. There was no contest against her height with the other Hufflepuff girls in her year. She was willowy and towered over all of them. We walked up to one of the big circle doors and walked into a noticeably quieter hall. It was a half oval shape, with seven more circle doors along with it. This must be the girl’s dormitory. Margret didn’t hesitate for a second to bring me through the fourth door.

The dorm room was surprisingly very similar to my own back in Gryffindor tower. There was a coal-burning furnace in the middle, a ring of beds around it with curtains hanging from the railings of the four-poster style and two simple bedside tables, but no windows. To replace the window ledges in-between each bed there was a partially closed off cubby, with a desk, ceiling lamp, and bookshelf. Each of the archways leading into those cubbies had thick, ancient-looking drapes with the Hufflepuff insignia on it.

I followed Margret over to a bed with a worn blue teddy bear leaning against the pillow and stood awkwardly as she started rummaging through her bottomless trunk at the foot of her bed, which was dotted with various dance competition stickers and doodles. Good thing she was good at ballet, because the doodles weren’t very pretty. One of the bedside tables was stacked up with books, candles, and three wooden boxes painted with stars. The other side had a vase with sunflowers, a worn looking orange notebook, and a still music box displaying a ballerina. There was a pair of beat-up pointe shoes hanging from the end post of the bed that swayed when Margret nudged the trunk against the bed-frame.

“Take a seat. It might take me a second to pull everything out,” Margret called leaned halfway into the storage container. As the minutes passed with her pulling a wide array of colorful fabric from the trunk and creating a large pile of clothes behind her, I looked around the dormitory. No one else was in the room, but who could blame them with how inviting the common room was?

“Oh, stuff it. I can’t take it any longer! I need to change into some clean clothes. I’ll go change in the bathroom. Mm, these should be good enough to wear until you get back to your dorm,” Margret annoyed flushed and showed none of the graceful ballerina skills in the way she tugged off her rain jacket and tossed it on the side of her bed.

In one hand was a colorful bundle of clothes clutched tightly to her chest, while the other had a slightly less colorful ball of clothes extended out to me. Not wanting to pause for my response, she simply plopped the clean clothes onto the empty spot next to me, and called over her shoulder through the door, “I’ll knock before I come in. Those should fit you fine. Little petite for a second year, aren’t cha? But those are from my first year so it should be okay. Oh! If I take forever there’s candy in the middle star box! Just don’t touch my strawberry sugar wings. Or, else!”

And just like that, I was left in a dorm room for another house getting swept up in Margret Brown’s flurry. One by one I inspected the articles of clothing Margret selected for me, and piece by piece my smile grew. Uncle Jasper and Ms. Narcissa would burn these clothes before allowing me to parade around in such bold, clearly, muggle influenced styles. Luckily my thick tights were dry enough to keep on under the pants, which felt a little thin to my cold sensitive self. If the fact they were pants wasn’t enough, these trousers were high waisted, and picnic patterned in a bright red-coral, and creme. I think Daphne called this pattern gingham. The top part of me was layered and I felt like a cat purring in the warm sun once they were all on. First was a thin white t-shirt with three yellow flowers printed on, presumably made by Margret, and the end of the shirt was frying lightly from the home done cropping. Over that was a heather grey, cotton collared shirt with a stretched out buttercup yellow collar. This shirt also had a self-done crop right below my belly button, which didn’t stress me out as much as it could have considering the high waisted pants were high rise enough that no skin showed. The real cherry on top of this out of my comfort zone outfit was the baggy fur jacket made out of caramel synthetic fur like the kind used for stuffed animals in the muggle world. I’ve never felt faux-fur so cheaply and muggle made! It was thrilling!

It only took a few moments for Margaret to return, in high-waisted tan corduroy pants, a white butterfly tee, and bright yellow knit cardigan. She had her hair in a high ponytail, with her thick straight across bangs flowing out from under an orange velvet headband adorned with little gold stars. She filled the room up with her chatter about this and that while halfway inside of her trunk rummaging around. It was easy to get wrapped up in her chaotic little bubble. It was like a hive of sweet honey bees swarmed within her chest.

“I’ve seen you hanging out with Andrew and his friends, right? Those Ravenclaws are a riot! Every year they seem to get more and more in trouble. ‘Drew says Jareth tutors you in transfiguration. I can relate. I’m all about Defense myself,” She chattered, seemingly running out of clothes to shift through. The colorful pile of clothes was monstrous but, satisfied with the trunk, Margret pulled herself out and began gently folding articles at random.

“Yes, Jareth tutors me. I probably would fail if he didn’t. Sometimes Lance Sao helps out too,” I confirmed leaving out the parts about Jareth simply trying to look good in order to become a prefect and the times Andrews joined us and gushed about the oblivious girl before me. It wasn’t my place to drop that bombshell.

“Gryffindor, eh? Sprout hasn’t pick one of you lot for the club in a few years. Bit rowdy, ya know? My boyfriend is in Gryffindor! Sam Hudson? Have you talked to him?” She smiled wistfully holding up a puffer muggle jacket in cream with little ditsy flowers on it, “I’m so mad I outgrew this but you gotta take this one. It fits your sparkle so well.”

“My sparkle?” I cocked my hand taking the jacket being offered to me to place beside me on the bed, “Oh, Sam Hudson. I’ve never talked to him myself. He’s in his sixth year, right? Isn’t he best friends with Oliver Wood?”

“Can barely get him alone sometimes but you should totally say hello next time you see him! He’s really great,” She tossed two pairs of corduroy pants, one in pea green and one navy, “Yeah! Your sparkle! Like the energy you give off.”

“Oh,” I nodded smiling softly, “I like that.”

“Anyway, now that your one of us Herbies,” She paused looking at me meaningfully, “You can come to me if you ever need to talk or need help. We try to stick together like Ced said earlier. Same goes for him I’m sure. Okay?”

“Okay. thank you,” I beamed, “Today was so much fun! I can’t wait until the next meeting.”

“Just wait till Halloween,” Margret leaned in like she was about to say something scandalizing, “Sprout lets us carve the pumpkins that float in the Great Hall during the feast. Maybe this year you and your friends will take out two trolls during the feast.”

“Oh, goodness,” I shook my head, “I just want to enjoy it this year.”

☾☾☾☾

My head was high as I walked through the halls of the castle in my new muggle clothes, and unladylike pants. My fellow student’s attire was a collection of a muggle, wizarding, and Hogwart’s uniforms. If Uncle Jasper saw me now he would have an absolute fit but he was an ocean away in America with Astoria. Generations and generations of old ideals and gender expectations had long since taken root deep in his skull. Perhaps if his wife didn’t pass away so tragically, she would have been able to mellow out that side of him. The only Greengrass that would like my ensemble would be colorful, creative Astoria.

The sensation of the pants was foreign, especially in the cream and orange gingham pattern. My love for dresses and skirts remained strong but it was hard not to feel like a new person in clothes you weren’t even allowed to look at in the shops. I had tried my very best to remain composed and grateful in front of Margaret, but the ear to ear beaming grin would have been impossible to fight off. A small duffle bag swung from my shoulders containing the exciting new hand me downs. The weight of the clothes made the thick strap dig into my bony shoulders and swing into my side in rhythm with my footsteps. Margaret had loaned me the old dance bag to transport everything to my dorm. I would be meeting with her in a few days for HHC to return that and anything that didn’t fit my body. She warned that with me being small for my age and her being big for her age the fit might be funny on a lot of the items.

Outside the chaos of the storm raged on without hints of lessening like the rest of the month’s storms have been. Students flurried around lazily enjoying the midday relaxation of the weekend. I had hoped that by the time Herbology Club wrapped up Harry, Ron and Hermione would be enjoying their lunch, and sped to the Great Hall where we planned on meeting before my Hufflepuff adventure ate up my time. There wasn’t any time to drop the bag off or even really look at how the very out of my comfort zone outfit even looked on me.

The Great Hall had the gentle roar of the student body enjoying their weekend, before having to bunker down with homework or extracurricular activities. It wasn’t hard to spot my friend group with Ron’s bright red hair bobbing around on his tall frame or the messy poof of curls creating a halo around Hermione. As for Harry, even his small frame did nothing to prevent the never-ending glances from passers assuming their stealthy gaze is impossible to notice. They were all in their day clothes. Funnily they all wore jeans in an array of washes and knit jumpers to keep the damp chill from settling in their bones. Ron was munching away on a sandwich craned over the Daily Prophet’s sports section looking irked at the rank of his favorite teams. Hermione was chatting with Harry causally and judging from their relaxed expressions it was just an unguided conversation to fill the time.

Hermione both had her back to me patiently leaving the empty spot open for me. Ron’s focus on the paper made it Harry who noticed I approached first and cocked his head slightly like a dog that heard an unfamiliar sound. The hair that was as dark as my own but wild moved with Harry’s pointed nod at my outfit, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear pants before, Estelle.”

Blushing, I waved Harry’s comment off and slid the duffle under the bench slipping next to Hermione. For anyone else wearing pants would be an average occurrence but my friends all shared similar looks of confused surprise. They had all finished their lunch and were waiting for me to arrive. I had told them I wasn’t sure when I was going to finish and would try to meet them for a noon lunch, but I still felt equal parts guilty at my tardiness and warmth at their willingness to wait on me.

“I thought your Uncle Jasper was against pants,” Hermione inquired.

It wasn’t hard to guess what she was mumbling under her breath about the dated notion. Pureblood households were always extremely old fashioned. At least the proud, problematic ones I was from. Every time I spoke of that world to her it was like I was speaking of some twisted fantasy world rather than my home. Ron says it’s a wonder I didn’t turn out even weirder with how proper and old fashioned my mannerisms were compared to theirs. I was trying to introduce more slang into my sentences.

With a voice thickened by the half-swallowed lump of sandwich, Ron added with the roll of his eyes, “Stuffy purebloods.”

“Ron, you’re a pureblood too,” I gently reminded, before covering my mouth with the back of my hand to chew a nibble of a chicken salad sandwich.

“Not like that,” Ron nearly gagged, not intending to offend me but rubbing a slightly sensitive nerve. Ever since Draco used that slur I couldn’t subconsciously separate myself from my family more. It felt impossible to battle these new feelings for the intense bond of family love. I tried my best to avoid thinking about it, but with Draco and the others lurking around the castle, it was difficult.

“If he saw me now that howler your mum sent would sound like a Celestina Warbeck song,” I winced not enjoying the attention and popped a pretzel into my mouth.

To be fully candid everything in me had hoped someone would point out my new look. The entire walk to the Great Hall my chest had been racing with excitement to show my friends. I felt like I was my own person, with my own opinions for the first time. Normal kids don’t wear expensive clothes that could have bought mine and all my friend's books this term. It was nice to feel normal, and the fact the clothes once belonged to Margret Brown, a popular girl, made it feel like they had been enchanted or charmed with the way it made me feel confident.

“Who’s Clestina Warbeck?” Harry inquired.

“She’s a famous singer. You’ve heard her stuff,” I explained and reluctantly mumbled out the chorus off tune at the empty expression on Harry’s face, “You charmed the heart right out of me.”

From a little way down the table, Seamus Finnegan’s head snapped over toward the butchered melody and grimaced. He was in love with the singer, and everyone knew about the way he fangirled for the woman. I mouthed an apology jokingly, which made Seamus laugh and turn back to Neville to continue whatever they were discussing with Pavarti.

“How did he even hear that all the way over there?” Ron muttered to himself about his fanboy dorm mate.

“Ooooh, that song,” Harry nodded, finally placing the badly imitated melody, “Mrs. Weasley loved that song.”

“Did you know she’s funded an entire ward at St.Mungo’s?” Hermione let herself get distracted along with Harry and me. She couldn’t resist giving fun facts out like candy on muggle Halloween.

“Yes! Astoria got to meet her during one of her stays there. She said she’s super nice,” I simpered remembering the feminine autograph on the perfectly shot headshot Astoria returned from the hospital with a few years back. She’s been obsessed with her music ever since. There is even a framed poster hung in her bathroom, away from the eyes of any visitors on a tour of Greengrass Estate.

“Careful,” Ron rolled his eyes, “Don’t let Seamus hear you’ve met her or he won’t stop asking about it.”

We all nodded in agreement but there was a brief lull in the conversation at the mention of my sickly cousin. Hermione took charge of the conversation to save the unsure but caring boys across from us, “How is she doing, Estelle? Any new updates?”

“No,” I shook my head slouching down with a deep sigh, “The rain’s been too bad. Barely anyone’s been getting their letters.”

“It’ll let up soon,” Harry smiled comfortingly at me, which Ron mirrored with an enthusiastic nod of his scarlet head.

“Let's hope. For the owls sake at least. Hagrid’s hands have been full with all the mud already without all the sprained wings and battered feathers,” I agreed, “I’ve helped out where I can but it still seems stressful.”

“And the quidditch team’s sake. I can’t believe Wood has you out training in this,” Hermione looked up at the enchanted ceiling, and as if on due a huge shudder of thunder echoed in the castle.

“Dumbledore should make a rule against what Malfoy did. He’s just buying Slytherin’s wins. No one can compete with that, prat,” Ron grumbled, sending a glare over my shoulder where I can only assume our favorite group of Slytherins we're eating.

“Maybe McGonagall could do something,” Hermione tried to cheer the boys up weakly feeling the weight of their situation as well.

I tried to get into Quidditch my entire life but it just never could hook me like everyone else. Too many things to look at once. It is fun watching the Gryffindor games now that one of my best friends was a seeker though and making signs with the rest of the house is my favorite part. Astoria would make beautiful signs for whatever house she ends up in.

“Lucius Malfoy is too connected for any new rule about the brooms to actually happen. We’ll just have to figure out something else to win. Besides, Harry, even with those brooms you're a better seeker,” I gently reminded them of who they were dealing with exactly. Everyone’s faces fell and the four of us lapsed into silence for a few minutes each trying to figure out a way to help the team.

“Wait. Wait. Hold on. What’s in the bag?” Ron questioned leaning back to try and get a good look at the mysterious duffle bag lamely sitting under the table near our feet, “And who gave you the clothes?”

“Oh!” I laughed at the detour the conversation took, “One of the Herbology club member’s gave me some of their old clothes when I told her I didn’t have any gardening clothes. It’s Lavender’s cousin, Margret. Does it look…bad?”

“Better than Dudley’s hand me downs,” Harry joked, lifting an arm exposing the excessive amount of excess fabric that consumes his underfed frame. Sweet Merlin, even with his freshly unlocked fortune from his family’s potion lines he was stuck with massive, worn rags. I was about ready to sit him down with an owl order catalog and not let him leave until he got better clothes. They didn’t look warm.

“Not nearly as beat up as the rags my brothers made me stick with,” Ron bantered with his best friend’s joke with a shared wince between the boys. Ron was lucky. Everything was wonderful handmade quality and everyone in his family shared the same lanky build.

“Seriously! I don’t wear stuff like this,” I tugged on the fluffy, faux fur arm of the jacket. It felt like everyone was looking at me, even though if anyone was looking at our group they probably only cared about Harry, and the unfamiliar styles were glowing from the intensity of which they drew mean spirited attention toward me. Did I look like a total fraud?

“Oh, they look fine. Really, Estelle, it was pretty impractical to only own skirts and dresses. You kind of look like you could be muggle born dressed like that,” Hermione reassured me and smirked at her joke.

My first, unfiltered reaction to being compared to a muggleborn was embarrassment for a split second before my laughter forced its way through my teeth rejecting the internalized prejudice. The second was rage at myself for having thoughts in my brain like that. Hermione’s teary face after Draco’s slur took over every single one of my thoughts. My guilty conscience made me stiff for a moment, before forcing my thoughts away. No. No. I’m not like that. I know better. I’m in Gryffindor.

“Let’s just hope Daphne doesn’t owl my Uncle. His temper is already short with everything going on right now. Harry, is Wood really going to make me sit in the rain this afternoon? I don’t know anything about Quidditch or Malfoy’s strategies. All we did was race,” I whimpered after a loud smash of thunder, “I doubt it’s safe to fly in this. The birds aren’t even doing it.”

“Asking Wood to postpone practice is more dangerous than flying in a lighting storm. Trust me,” Harry responded sarcastically eyeing the upper-class man sitting further down the table.

“You can always just tell him no. You aren’t even on the team. He can’t make you,” Hermione reminded me.

“We all know I’d never tell him that” I sighed kicking myself for my insecurity locking away my ability to simply say to people no far, far from here where the world is sunny and bright.

☾☾☾☾

To say Wood was unimpressed with my lack of knowledge was an understatement. There was no real advantage to be had over the insider information that Draco Malfoy plays rough and tends to lean to his right side or that he bites his lips when he’s focusing or stressed. Eventually, he simply decided that it would be best if I sat in the stands and watched Harry do laps mentally comparing it to Draco. No one needed to know that I had no idea if Harry was going faster or slower than Draco flew over the summer. It was so long ago now. The slanted angle of the bullets of rain and frigid wind made it difficult for the team to fly at the top of their game and telling Harry anything other than encouragement just felt cruel. Everyone looked more and more miserable with each boom of thunder.

Admittedly, my thoughts strayed to George, or Fred as it was hard to tell with the thick sheets of rain, to swoon over him from time to time. My heart nearly fell from my chest when he gave me a high five for helping the team ‘spy.’ Thank god for the booming thunder and heavy rain or he would have heard the idiotic stammering that oozed from my mouth the moment he approached me. Everyone in the entire house knew about my humiliating crush at this point. All I could be happy for at this point was that George was too nice to ever act like it was obvious.

Attracting a bolt of lightning to an umbrella rod was too risky to chance, and the dark green rain robes only kept the furious rain away from my person for so long. My long black hair clung to my face and neck like tentacles, and my clothes were waterlogged so densely that my muscles protested under the unwanted weight. I wish there was a mirror on the pitch so I could see how much of a drowned ghost I looked like. Most of the time I liked how I was one of the palest people in my year because my father was the same way in pictures but sometimes the comments about looking like a ghoul with such dark hair got old. Daphne said I should look into highlights because my hair washed me out but with a face full of baby fat changing my hair wasn’t going to do much good.

The icy autumnal wind quickly turned the tips and ends of my body numb, and I wasn’t even one of the people zooming around the training yard. It was surprising. Once you become used to the uncomfortable circumstances the storm fully absorbed you into its powerful force. More than I’d like to admit my face turned upward to the sky, eyes closed, and let the icy bullets melt into me with the electric tingles running along my spin in waves of the archaic magic found in nature the Druids spoke so highly of. Every clap and shutter of the storm was drenched in this intoxicating limitless magical energy. Despite having yet to try a drop of liquor my entire body felt like what I could only imagine being intoxicated. Harry, wrapped up in his own emotions about being splattered in mud and drenched, didn’t even notice the reluctance I felt when we finally got cover from the storm under the castle’s study roof.

It was just Harry and I walking back to the dormitory. Wood had held Harry and me back to try and trigger a forgotten fact about the Slytherin team he was convicted I’d buried in my subconscious. I finally understood the exhaustion and slight snappy attitude Harry possessed after a rough practice but while Harry was sluggish and defeated at the thought of the Nimbus 2001s I was enthralled with the might of the thunderstorm outside. Harry was too tired and my brain was far too fuzzy for any light conversations on the way back to the dorm. The only sound in the cavernous halls was the squelching of our mud-caked shoes and the drips of water leaking from our hair and clothes. Both of our lips were twinged a little blue.

“Ugh. Finally. I’ve been looking for you,” Daphne’s instantly recognizable cool-tone halted Harry and I both in our heavy stride from behind us.

I turned around, with Harry staying nearby expecting a fight. Daphne would never lower herself into getting into a dramatic fight in public when she could plot some other underhanded way of getting revenge. The clicks of her kitten-heeled black boots in that victorian style with the buttons along the side echoed as she strutted up to me.

“Ew,” She curled her upper lip giving my muggle clad, mud and rain-soaked body a judgmental scan, “You look disgusting. Who’s picnic did you ruin to make those ghastly trousers? And why are you so…dirty?”

Harry went to open his mouth but with a glance over my shoulder, he smothered whatever he wanted to retort. If Daphne wasn’t basically my sister I’m sure Harry would have lived up to his hero complex but, thankfully, he didn’t start anything.

Daphne waved her thin fingers in dismissal the moment I opened my mouth to explain, “I don’t really have time for a long story. I’m glad someone finally decided to break that stupid pants rule Father is trying to keep alive. I always thought either Astoria or myself would be the ones to piss Father off but surprise surprise.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked trying to understand why Daphne had sought me out.

“You know Father. He can’t keep the rest of us from doing it if someone else already is. I was hoping to get Astoria to do it. Fathers so wrapped around her finger,” Daphne explained turning her nose upward slightly, “I can’t become a famous fashion designer if I don’t design any trousers.”

“I suppose that’s true. Is that why you were looking for me? Is everything okay? Did something happen with Tori?” I gave up attempting to dissect this encounter and bluntly asked her.

“Astoria sent our letters tied together and asked me to give you your letter. Here,” She started pulling an envelope from her dress pocket and snapped at me when I got close to grab it, “Careful, Troll Hands. Don’t get your slime on my dress. It’s cashmere.”

Harry tried to muffle his snicker at her superficial worry, and I could only sigh knowing exactly what was about to unfold the moment her icy blue eyes slid to him. The letter was heavy in my hand and had a thickness to it. I wonder if she sent a painting to hang in my dorm as I requested.

Everything about Daphne’s appearance was perfectly ironed, smoothed, and done up. Her long blond hair was immune to the humidity of the muddy school grounds and shined in the light of the candle fixtures on the walls. She had gotten better at the natural makeup look she applied heavy-handed at last year's Malfoy Christmas event. Her navy dress with white lining on the bust and collar was perfectly wrinkleless and rain-free. Even her shiny black boots and accompanying black knee-highs didn’t have a single trace of the gooey mud swamping the grounds.

It was hardly a surprise there was a rumor she had Veela blood, which to anyone but a snobby pureblood would have been a compliment. Compared to Harry and I smeared with mud, grass, and soaked to the bone it was almost ironically comical. If Harry didn’t live up to his infamous hero complex, the ice queen lived up to her name. Daphne was taller than Harry and sneered down at the boy frowning up at her, “Do you even know what cashmere is? This dress is Dior. It costs more than-….Never mind, the world of high fashion is lost on a barn animal like you, Potter. I want the rain to calm before I send Eira with our letters so you have some time to write it. Just don’t be a pest about giving it to me.”

“Are you sure you want to wait? This rain isn’t going to let up until after Halloween,” I frowned hitting the side of the envelope against my palm. She rolled her eyes, turned on her heel, and stalked off toward the dungeons.

“You aren’t special just because you read the weather column, Estelle. I’m not interested in forcing my owl to deliver our letters in weather like this. Just write the letter,” She sneered, which you could hear in her voice, and I could picture her patronizing smirk ingrained in my brain. I could see Harry’s bewildered expression from the corner of my eye at the exchange.

“Goodnight, Daphne,” I called to her back.

“Oh, and burn those vile pants before you get expelled for permanently blinding anyone who sees them,” She replied as she turned the corner in a snarky tone. Harry and I stood in part confusion and part exhaustion for a silent pause staring at the corner Daphne disappeared behind.

“Well,” Harry raised his eyebrows into the darkness behind his bangs, “That was unexpected.”

“It’s Daphne’s world. We are all just living in it,” I joked with a shrug, “You get used to it. She’s not... all bad.”

We, with heavy exhausted limbs, continued on our trek home to change into warm cozy clothes and enjoy the rest of the Saturday evening goofing around by the fireside listening to the rain desperately try to break down the windows and soak the sanctuary of the common room in the storm’s moisture. Dean and Pavarti had suggested all the second years get together and hang out, which sounded fun. I think Seamus was going to teach us a muggle card game. Tensions had been smoothed over from the gossiping incident with Pavarti and Lavender, which made living together much more easy-going.

“I think the pants are nice,” Harry shrugged as we neared the portrait door. I’m sure even if he hated the orange plaid pants after interacting with a snarky Slytherin that hated them he would have adored them. In a slightly heated tone, he added, “And I know what cashmere is. Aunt Petunia had some things. I actually had to wash it. Can she do that?”

“Do you think she can?” I gave a half-smile stopping in front of the hidden door just in time for the feeling in my toes to come back to experience the mud ooze around in my shoes. Hermione’s going to kill me for the mud I’m going to track into the dorm.


	19. Chapter Eighteen:  Letters, Salamanders, and Bloody Walls

Dear Estelle, 

Father says it’s hard to get mail to Hogwarts around now because it’s always stormy. But isn’t it a magical castle? Can they whip something up to stop the weather? I bet there is something cool they can do. Because the worst part about the hospital is how boring it is. I mean the treatments are terrible but if I have to listen to Father talk about runes or dusty rocks again I’m going to throw myself out of the window. Which would be double bad because I’m on the third floor and I haven’t been allowed outside in three weeks because my body can’t fight germs during treatments.

At least Ginger can still go play. I’m just happy they let me bring my kitty with me. She loves the window next to my bed. That’s what the painting is of. I like how I did the trees through the glass. I can’t wait till I get to go to Hogwarts and learn that spell to make my paintings move. I don’t want to complain but the treatments are really rough some days but when I remember the treatments will help me go to Hogwarts next year it isn’t so bad. I just hope I can come home in time for Christmas. I miss you and Daphne. And my bed. And being far, far away from Charles Dart. In case you forgot he’s that annoying boy across the hall that tried shaving Ginger as a joke. Nurses had to pull us apart from almost killing each other two days ago. It wasn’t very hard for them though. It must have been kind of funny watching weak kids try to fight. 

I’m trying to think of things that aren’t sad to write but I mostly sleep or have blood work done all day. You’re the one who needs to be entertaining me. I’m the sickly child. Cough up some stories about Hogwarts. Oh and don’t worry I made Father promise me he wouldn’t read my letters. Like I can’t even go to the bathroom alone he better let me have my letters to myself. 

Please tell me everything,

Astoria 

—

Dear Astoria, 

My roommates were all blown away by how good your painting of Ginger by the window is. We hung it up near the door. It’s so adorable. I could tell you weren’t feeling good from your letter. I wish I could be there to save you from Uncle Jasper’s lectures. But I can tell you all about Hogwarts as a trade since you are so interested. 

You think Uncle Jasper’s lectures are boring? My History Of Magic professor is a ghost and he still manages to put even Hermione to sleep during class. It’s the only class she’s never asked questions in. His class is so boring he died during the middle of one of his classes and just kept teaching because he didn’t notice. 

You probably won’t get this letter until after Halloween with how the storms won’t give up. Soon the entire castle is going to wash away. It is kind of nice to listen to in Gryffindor tower by the fire but I miss being able to go outside without stepping into ankle deep cold mud. Professor Sprout invited me to join the Herbology Club that helps her look after the many school greenhouses. There are only seven members! We have had our work cut out for us with all the mud and rain getting into the greenhouses and messing with the balance of warmth and moisture. We would have lost an entire section of Valerian if Cedric Diggory hadn’t noticed water had gotten into the greenhouse and flooded that dirt bed. All the girls go crazy over him. You’ll have to wait and tell me what you think. 

But I’m so tired of finding mud places. It’s everywhere! Harry gets my pain because Oliver Wood, Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain, has been forcing him to practice during the storms because of drama with the Slytherin team. I’ll tell you that story later. Ron and Hermione better be happy they don’t have to brave the rain and can enjoy the dry castle. If Margret Brown, another member of Herbology club, hadn’t given me a bunch of her old clothes to work in, all of my dresses would be covered in dirt stains. 

Don’t tell your father about this but she gave me a ton of cute clothes. All the kinds Uncle Jasper hates. Jeans, jumpsuits, and all kinds of muggle trends. I know you're going to want to know what I have so I’ll try my best to describe the things I got. Sorry if it’s bad. I’m not Daphne. She’s better at stuff like this. Actually, I’m just going to have to show you at Christmas. I have no idea how to describe this stuff. You better not tell Uncle Jasper!

Anyway, the situation with the Slytherin’s started because Draco’s father bought the Slytherin team the best brooms on the market but none of the other house teams have that so everyone is a bit annoyed with Slytherin for ‘buying their skill.’ So Wood has been a mad man about practicing the team. He’s hoping skill can beat top of the line equipment. I’ll write who wins the match. Tensions are high. 

I don’t know if it’s that or the fact Halloween is just around the corner and everyone is getting sick but there has been weird energy for the past couple of weeks. Hermione thinks it’s just because of the rain and being stuck inside but something feels off. She’s probably right though. 

Love, 

Estelle 

☾☾☾☾

“Alright, Alright,” Sprout laughed silencing the small group of students gathered around the long workbench with bright orange pumpkins hollowed out in two rows, “Feast is tomorrow. Everyone decided what they’re doing? No professors!” 

“I know. I know,” Amy Hernández, a seventh-year Slytherin, giggled, “I’m doing a vampire this year. Don’t worry, Professor.”

“Good, don’t want Snape on my case again,” Sprout nodded before raising her mug in the air proudly, “Let’s show everyone what my club can do, eh?”

The herbology club cheered, and a few raised a tin mug of butterbeer in celebration. Pumpkin juice was given to anyone below the fourth year though due to the very slight amount of alcohol content. I stood between Cedric, and Margret excited to carve my first pumpkin as a herbie, hyped up on some of the sugary pastries Sprout provided for the special meeting. The cauldron cakes were positively to die for. The creaming pumpkin filling was some of the best I've ever tasted. It was the perfect balance of light fluffiness and sweetness. 

The red radio was blaring a trendy station, with Sprout nodding along to the pop song happily pausing only to pop caramel popcorn into her mouth from time to time. Apparently, the herbology club looked forward to this meeting every year. Sprout even awarded a rare plant to whoever came in the best costume. Since I didn’t know about being a member until after the school year started, I didn’t have time to plan and create a costume like everyone else. Luckily, Dean Thomas had a blast painting my face to look like a vampire, and I simply wore all black. Margret went all out with her ghost costume, and Cedric came as a zombie. 

“What are you guys making?” Sarah Earl, the club president dressed as a black cat, walked up to Cedric, Margaret, and I with slightly rosy cheeks in from the butterbeer, “Really, Cedric? You did a snitch last year!” 

“And the year before that,” Margret giggled using her wand to carve a starry night sky. 

“And I get better every year,” Cedric wiggled his fingers at the girls, “Why fix what isn’t broken?” 

“Estelle?” Sarah peered over my shoulder, “A jack-o-lantern? A classic for your first year. Nice!” 

“I’m not very good at drawing,” I admitted with the shrug of my shoulders, “Maybe I can get my cousin to make me a stencil next year. She'll be in her first year.” 

“Oh, is she good at Herbology too?” Sarah asked but frowned when I started laughing, “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t think either of my cousins would ever want to join Herbology club,” I shook my head, “Especially Daphne.” 

“Daphne Greengrass?” Amy piped up from a little ways down the table and shook her head, “I almost forgot she was your cousin. You two… are very different.” 

“That's a nice way of saying she’s a total bitch,” Aeron Hark, a third year Hufflepuff, snarked. 

“Hey! That’s my cousin,” I shook my head, but Aeron just rolled his eyes. Sarah moved on to the next little group of herbies leaving Cedric, Margret and I alone. 

“Just ignore Aeron. He’s a prat,” Cedric nodded to me. 

“Yeah. Watch this,” Margret agreed, popping out one of the stars she carved out of her pumpkin, and tossed it directly at Aeron’s cowboy hat. We erupted into a wave of giggles when it landed on the brim of the dark brown hat without him noticing a thing. 

“How are you on a broom? You’d make a decent chaser, Margret. Hufflepuff could use you,” Cedric frowned nodding in approval, “Good shot.” 

“Dance is already enough with school,” Margret shook her head waving her hands dramatically in denial. Suddenly, a look of realization crossed over her face and she jumped squealing lightly, “Oh! I totally forgot! I nailed the audition! I’m going to be in Don Quixote over the summer. Will you guys please come? I’ll get you tickets and everything! It’s in Diagon Alley.” 

“Congrats!” Cedric beamed as we both gave her high fives, “My mother loves going to shows. I’m sure she’d want to come with me.” 

“Oh, I love the theater,” I swooned clutching my hands to my chest, “I can’t wait to see your performance, Margret.” 

“Hopefully, your uncle will let you go,” Margret frowned gently. The three of us paused slightly in our carving at the reminder that Uncle Jasper would probably never let me go see her perform unless we were already going to the performance coincidentally. Purebloods do love the overly grand Prospero Theater nestled in the corner of Diagon Alley, especially the Malfoys. 

“Maybe I can figure something,” I smiled trying my best to avoid the feelings of dejection creeping up despite the joyful environment of the Halloween celebration. 

“If not,” Cedric smirked, “I’ll sneak you out. Maybe Weasley will let me borrow that flying car.” 

“Oh, Merlin,” my eyes grew comically, “Ron said it just drove into the Forbidden Forest! No one can find it! They sent people from the Ministry and everything.” 

“Now that is a good start for a spooky Halloween story,” Margret pointed, but pouted when Cedric and I both laughed in disagreement, “You two just don’t have the creative vision I do!” 

“Creative vision?” Cedric joked holding up his pumpkin with the crudely carved snitch, “Tell that to my pumpkin.” 

Margret made a great show of leaning across the table, grabbing Cedric’s pumpkin and bringing it close to her face to whisper, “Pumpkin, they have no creative vision.” 

“Why fix what isn’t broken?” I echoed Cedric’s thoughts from earlier, holding up my own classic jack o' lantern face, and beamed happily. 

☾☾☾☾

“I think it’s kind of funny, don’t you, Elle? This is our second year at Hogwarts but our first Halloween feast. Elle? Elle? Estelle?” Hermione spoke to me but failed to pull me away from the heated glare I was sending a few spots down the Gryffindor table. My arms were crossed tightly against my chest and there was nothing more I wanted to do than cast a Hex on those idiots. 

“Ouch! Ron, did you just kick me?” I winced snapping out of my hate-fueled stare aimed at the pair of uncomfortable twins down the table. To say my crush on George had been obliterated within seconds would be the understatement of the century. 

“Stop glaring at them, El. People are going to think you’ve gone looney,” Ron hissed leaning across the table to talk in a quiet tone. 

“They deserve getting glared at. I can hardly believe they would do something so cruel out of boredom,” I hissed right back. Ron’s eyebrows shot up frozen with uncertainties of the uncharted waters of my temper. Besides my sleep-deprived argument with Hermione last year everyone had come to view me as a quiet second year that let people walk all over her. 

“C’mon, Elle. It’s Halloween. Try to enjoy it,” Ron said with the slightest nervous crackle to his changing voice. A haughty scoff announced the return of my sulking crossed arms. 

“Are you saying you think it’s okay what they did?” I grumped and tapped my shoe against the stone floor. Hermione and Ron shared a long look. Both were unversed in the area of my rage.

“Of course not! It’s just….,” Hermione trailed off looking to Ron for help. 

“You might have reacted…a little…,um, strongly,” Ron said carefully before leaning toward Hermione and me again and whispered, “George’s hair is still green.” 

“I’ll apologize when they apologize to the salamander,” I puffed-up my chest. I glanced in Fred and George’s direction and managed to catch them looking at me and whispering to each other. The thin slits of my eyelids narrowed angrily. As always they used comedy as an escape and Fred pretended to faint against George in terror. Was that supposed to be charming or cute? How unbelievably rude. 

Hermione and I had been excitedly hurrying down the stairs into the heart of the common room to meet Ron for the feast, as Harry was stuck with Lockhart in detention for the entirety of the feast which seemed overly cruel of punishment when I saw Fred and George crouched near a side table giggling like madmen with Filibuster fireworks between their fingers. Blind rage filled me and oozed out into the energy surrounding my body when I got close enough to discover what they were attempting to do. A sweet, delicate salamander was squirming around the table terrified of what the redhead twins were planning to do. My wand was pointed at them before they even noticed me, and they were slumped against the ground before they had a chance to force-feed the poor creature a firework out of boredom both with snot green hair.

The entirety of the common room watched in horrified shock as the little second year with the crush on George Weasley screamed at him for abusing a living creature. For once in their lives, the shock of the shy girl screaming at them had them at a loss for words and all they could do was gape up at the girl with a salamander wrapping around her finger delicately. Ron and Hermione had to pull me away from the two and down toward the Great Hall, with the salamander asleep in my uniform robe hood, before I calmed down enough to simply spend the feast glaring at him. 

“Never thought I’d miss my friend having a crush on my brother,” Ron mumbled into his bite of the roast.

It was toward the end of the feast and I had only managed to take a few bites because of my anger and also the steadily increasing wave of nausea. I mentioned it in my letter to Astoria but something weird was going on with me and it wasn’t cabin fever like Hermione suggested. Seemingly at random intense but quick waves of nausea would overcome me. More than once I have had to excuse myself from class to hold back vomit. Hermione also suggested that perhaps it was a Druid thing like my dreams last year.

Ron and Hermione pleasantly chatted with each other as the feast slowed, and only lazily took a bite of their food every once and a while stuffed to the brim with special treats and candy. The smells felt like they were physically suffocating me, and forced me to start gagging. The intensity of the vile feeling molested each of my nerves so overwhelmingly I didn’t even find comedy in the way Fred and George flinched when I ran past them to get to the privacy of the foyer outside the hall. The removal of the overly sweet smells didn’t help as I had hoped and I was holding back vomit between my fingers by the time I threw open the girl’s bathroom door and purged everything in my stomach into the bin near the door. 

Gently moved hands pulled my hair away from my face even though it was already sprayed with vomit, and the sounds of wincing announced the arrival of Ron and Hermione. Ron was cautiously peering around the bathroom but was quickly disappointed that it was nearly identical to the males, I’m assuming. They, along with Harry, were at a loss about these sudden nausea attacks randomly happening since the beginning of October. Even Madam Pompfry couldn’t find a specific cause and told me my sense of smell must have become sensitive or perhaps they were anxiety attacks. No one understood what I was trying to say when I said it felt like something was wrong in the energy of Hogwarts. 

“Ew, it’s all in my hair,” I winced watery-eyed looking at the random strands of hair stinking of stomach bile. The intensity of the spell had passed but I still felt like something was wrong. I just couldn’t understand what. The cool air of the bathroom tickled my cold sweat from the nausea as I hobbled over to the sink. Ron and Hermione gazed at me with a mixture of disgust and pity while I washed my hair out. 

“Oh!” Ron perked up raising his wand to be level with the freshly washed hair that still lightly smelled of my vomit, “I just read a spell to dry stuff.” 

“No!” Hermione and I protested. 

“With that wand, you’ll set her whole head on fire,” Hermione blinked, lowering his wand tensely, “I’m positive Estelle doesn't mind letting it air dry.”

“Thank you for the offer though, Ron,” I smiled but my reflection in the mirror was more like a wince than a smile. 

Ron nodded tucking his wand back into his pocket, “Don’t, uh, mention it.” 

“Well, I hated that. I’m sorry you left the feast to watch me throw up,” I pouted looking at my supportive but just as grossed out as me, friends who nodded. It had become somewhat normal over the past month and had been happening more and more often. 

“The feast was almost over anyway. Let’s go get Harry,” Ron brushed away my embarrassment easily and led us out the girl’s bathroom door like he was supposed to be there. Normally it would have made him turn bright red going into a girl’s bathroom. 

“Another Halloween, another bathroom,” Hermione said.

It was a funny joke but it just made us all wince a little. Next year I hope we enjoy the feast the entire time. The feeling of nausea was coming in waves and I let Ron and Hermione fill the silence with light chatter slouching behind them with my arms wrapped around my stomach. 

When we finally crossed paths with our missing member Harry was clutching the stone wall frantically. He looked absolutely insane. Hermione ran ahead leaving Ron and me to share a confused glance at each other. 

“Harry!” Hermione firmly shouted running up to him snapping him from whatever trance he was in. 

The whites of Harry’s eyes were on display because of the horrified confusion twisting his face. His voice was urgent and focused, “Did you hear it?” 

“I feel sick,” I mumbled to myself tightening my arms around my stomach as another wave tore through me. No one had time to notice my green face with the madness spreading from Harry. 

"Hear what?” Ron shook his head. 

“That voice,” Harry stated firmly as if we were the crazy looking ones. 

“Voice? What voice?” Hermione probed Harry’s state of madness cautiously. His eyes were darting around the room like the salamander still asleep in my hood had earlier. Harry looked exactly like a caged, terrified animal. 

“I heard it first in Lockhart’s office. And then again just,” Harry’s explanation halted violently focusing on one part of the wall now. 

“Are you feeling alright?” I frowned at my friend who was once again gripping the walls urgently ignoring our questions.

“It’s moving. I think it’s going to kill,” Harry gulped and tore down the hallway without a second thought about us. We all fumbled after his frenzied run.

“Kill?” Ron repeated hoping he had heard his best friend wrong from in front of me. 

“Harry, wait! Not so fast!” Hermione begged Harry who we were struggling to keep up with. 

“Let’s run away from the thing that wants to kill!” Ron winced but no one commented on the statement too busy chasing either Harry or something in the walls, “We are just second years!”

“I agree!” I echoed, gagging violently trying to keep up with the others.

When we finally caught up to Harry we were in a corridor lined with stained glass windows on one wall and large torches on the other. Water slapped in illuminated ripples under our feet. Why was the hallway flooded? Nausea had violently halted like a train throwing on the emergency brakes. My head spun but I pushed it to the side to keep up with the others. Harry threw his arms to the side to stop Hermione and Ron from going a step further. They all stared at something on the ground and I weaseled my short viewpoint to the front. Spiders were quickly moving in a single file line out of the castle from a crack in one of the stained glass windows. 

“They are acting like ants. That's not normal,” I commented. Something drastic must be going on to cause such a bizarre response. Are they sick? 

“I don’t like spiders,” Ron blurted out from beside me. He was staring at the little critters frozen in a state of a white face. All at once, we seemed to realize something strange about the reflection of the wall on the flooded floor. Ron gasped, “What is that?” 

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened… enemies the heir… beware,” Hermione read aloud and thickly pointed out, “It’s written in blood.” 

“Ah!” My scream was muffed by my hand but my shriek made the others notice the most horrifying part of this scene. My feet kicked up splashes of water urgently running to the stiff-looking cat trying not to scream again. 

“Oh, no. It’s Filch’s cat. It’s Mrs. Norris,” Harry sounded speechless. I reached my hands out to get her down from where she was hanging from her tail savagely but the moment my skin touched her fur I recoiled. 

I hissed sharply with hands still extended, “She’s…cold.” 

Mrs. Norris’ eyes were frozen and staring at the four of us. Her empty-looking eyes and stiff body made it look like someone had frozen her in time and she was desperately trying to escape her icy body. Something about the apathetic way she was hung by her tail and the coldness of her fur sent my chest into quivering bursts of desperation to breathe. I was transfixed on her empty eyes and hyperventilating when the sounds of people grew louder and louder. The sounds of horrifying realization weren’t even enough to pull me out of the loop of panic until Harry’s hand, as casually as possible, reached over and shook me lightly. 

I wasn’t expecting a third of the school staring at us in horror when I turned around. Draco, Crabb, and Goyle all looked affronted by the sight. Daphne and Blaze stood close together open-mouthed and wide-eyed behind them. Pansy was in a similar state. It wasn’t until I locked eyes with Draco that his facial expression shifted. There was a brief moment where he looked at the state of distress I was in and frowned. A nasty smirk twisted and curled across his cheeks and his eyes lit up with excitement. 

“‘Enemies of the heir beware!’ You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” Draco snarled, as the first person to collect themselves enough to speak, and smiled nastily at Hermione. Hermione’s mouth quivered a little.

“What’s going on here?” Filch’s gruff voice barked over the hum of whispers pushing his way to the front and decided Harry was his target, “Potter? What are you….” 

Filch’s face was so expressive saying everything his silence didn’t the moment he saw the cruel state of his beloved animal. If that was Bernard up on the light fixture I wouldn’t be able to stand. Words started to come from his mouth but never got the strength to become a sound. It was a quiet stammer but you could hear the horrifying pain in his voice, “Mrs. Norris?” 

All at once, Filch decided what emotion would respond to the traumatic experience enfolding around him and snarled at Harry in a blind rage, “You’ve…murdered my cat.” 

My hand latched onto Harry’s shoulder and pulled the stunned boy away from the emotionally unstable man gently. Harry could only shake his head lamely, "No. No.”

The moment I saw the madness of pain take over his eyes was the moment I stopped being gentle and ripped Harry behind me. I put my hand up to the enraged man and hoped it would be enough to hold him back. All you could hear in his voice was insanity, “I’ll kill ya. I’ll kill ya!” 

Filch was about to bat my hand away when Dumbledore’s voice echoed through the corridor demanding everyone’s attention, "Argus! Argus, I…” 

It seemed that the scene even stumped Dumbledore and the professors trailing after him for a moment. McGonagall's mouth hung open slightly and it seemed like the air had been sucked out of her. Even Snape was wide-eyed. 

Softly Dumbledore’s voice began handling the situation, "Everyone will proceed to their dormitories immediately.” 

Harry and I nearly ran over to Hermione and Ron eager to escape the hallway of horrors. We had barely turned around when Dumbledore’s voice froze everyone’s urgent escape, “Everyone, except you four.” 

The prefects worked quickly to guide their houses away from the bloody wall and the students were more than happy to follow them like little ducklings. My friends and I huddled together in an awkward lump of black uniform robes and shaky limbs. I looked at Mrs. Norris’ cold, glass-like eyes once again and shuttered wanting nothing more than to return to my safe warm bed and hold my own cat to my chest. Lockhart had swaggered up to the frozen feline and peered at it quietly. 

“She’s not dead, Argus. She has been Petrified,” Dumbledore offered words of relief to soothe his distraught employee. 

“Ah, thought so. So unlucky I wasn’t there. I know exactly the counter curse that could have spared her,” Lockhart’s arrogant voice acted like an unwanted reprise to Dumbeldore’s statement. Everyone looked at the man in silent contempt, before continuing as if he hadn’t spoken at all and wasn’t present. 

“But how she has been Petrified, I cannot say,” Dumbledore frowned. What was it that Harry heard in the walls? Why were spiders running from it? And more importantly, why could only Harry hear it?

“Ask him. It’s him who’s done it. You saw what he wrote on the wall,” Filch quivered glaring hotly at Harry. 

“It’s not true sir, I swear. I never touched Mrs. Norris,” Harry’s voice was saturated in desperation even with his attempts to sound collected. And sane. He was hearing voices in the wall only a few minutes ago. 

“Rubbish!” Filch screamed at Harry. 

“If I might, Headmaster? Perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Snape’s slick voice slowly suggested. We all wore the same expression of disbelief that Snape was willing to defend us in our time of need. 

Snape didn’t make us wait long for the other shoe to drop. He stalked toward us with the twitch of his left eyebrow and cooly noted, “However, the circumstances are suspicious. I, for one, don’t recall seeing Potter at dinner. I also recall Vaile, Granger and Weasley running from the hall just moments before the wall was discovered.” 

“I’m afraid that’s my doing, Severus. You see, Harry was helping me answer my fan mail,” Lockhart provided Harry with an alibi, and unwittingly another reason to pity the orphan boy. 

“I’ve had stomach problems lately, Professor. I left the hall because I was sick. Ron and Hermione followed me to make sure I was okay,” I flushed hating the way my voice sounded shaking, addressing the headmaster. 

“That’s why Ron and I went looking for him, Professor. We’d just found him when he said…,” Hermione picked up where I left off but trailed off unsure of how to broach the topic of Harry’s voices in the walls. Snape was like a shark with the taste of blood at Hermione’s hesitation. 

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Snape probably hoped he had caught them in their lie. 

Harry, locking eyes with a distressed Hermione and Ron and I giving our best innocent faces to Snape trapped in the middle, quickly interjected, “When I said I wasn’t hungry. We were heading back to the common room when we found Mrs. Norris.” 

It was obviously a lie, but Dumbledore was pleased with the golden boy and nodded at the four of us softly, “Innocent until proven guilty, Severus.” 

Filch was not having that and sorrowfully whimpered refusing to look at his statuesque companion, “My cat has been Petrified. I wanna see some punishment!” 

“We will be able to cure her, Argus. As I understand it, Madame Sprout has a very healthy growth of Mandrakes. When matured, a potion will be made which will revive Mrs. Norris,” Dumbledore pointed out and Sprout gave her best encouraging nod to Filch despite being clearly freaked out by the bloody wall before Dumbledore looked directly at our trouble attracting foursome and warned, “And in the meantime, I strongly recommend caution to all.” 

Dumbledore dismissed us back to our dormitories quickly after that and as quickly as we could walk without actually running we fled the scene in silence. Everyone was wrapped up in their own mental method of comprehending what had just unfolded. Only Ron would meet my eye and he gave me a horrified shrug of bewilderment settling back into his thoughts. There was so much to be hung up on but the spiders nagged me the most. I’ve studied creatures and I can’t think of anything that could cause a colony of spiders to behave similarly to ants. 

“It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?” Hermione broke the silence as we climbed the stairs upwards to the Gryffindor Tower listening to the staircases slamming and sliding around us. 

“Strange?” Harry frowned at her statement. All the honey curls on Hermione’s head flew through the air from the speed she snapped her head around to stare at him with a fierce frown. 

“You hear this voice, a voice only you can hear, and then Mrs. Norris turns up Petrified. It’s just… strange,” Hermione frowned clearly in the throes of panic. 

“Do you think I should have told them? Dumbledore and the others, I mean?” Harry glanced at all of us, with similar frowns of concern toward him, and tried not to look too terrified about being the only one who could hear the voice. 

“Are you mad?” Ron rounded on him like Harry admitted to purposefully letting another house get the snitch. 

“No, Harry. Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn’t a good sign,” Hermione’s words were harsh, and tried her best to be soft about the delivery but the blow was hard to soften. With a wince, her curls bounced with her turn and kept moving forward leaving a stunned Harry, an awkward Ron, and a nosy portrait behind her. 

“She’s right, you know,” The portrait reaffirmed Hermione’s statement. Harry climbed the stairs quickly with me hustling to catch up to the spot behind him. Ron was busy sending a dirty look at the painting. 

I gave Harry my best smile of comfort and tried to make him feel a little better, “Um, I’m sure it's, ah, okay that you heard that though…We are going to help you figure it out, Harry. Don't worry.” 

☾☾☾☾

Later that night, Hermione and I decided that we would curl up together in her bed under the warm, thick covers in our house shade. Bernard was purring at our feet soothing us with the gentle rhythm. Despite being larger and the fit of sharing the single bed tighter now that we were second years, neither of us wanted to be alone after what we saw. ‘You’ll be next, Mudbloods’ I couldn’t stop thinking about what Draco said, so gleefully might I add. Hermione didn’t look like the fierce muggleborn know-it-all in the dim lighting of our dormitory. Her fear was finally showing itself past the brave front she had put on. 

“Do you…,” Hermione trailed off, “Know anything about the chamber? Has your uncle ever mentioned it.” 

“No,” I shook my head frowning softly, “It’s going to be okay, Hermione. Dumbledore wouldn’t let anything happen. Plus, It’s a school. The Ministry wouldn’t let anything awful happen to children.” 

“I don’t know, Estelle. Did you see the teacher’s faces? They were scared,” Hermione shook her head but her hair was neatly braided away from her shoulders. 

I hadn’t known what to do when we got back to the common room earlier, and anxiously forced Hermione to let me braid her hair. I was getting quite good at taming her wild locks. Of course, I’d seen the looks of horror on their faces. Flitwick looked about ready to faint, and Sprout’s jaw was nearly to the water covered stone floor. But, Hermione didn’t need to think about that right now. Enemies of Salazar Slytherin only could mean one thing. 

“I’m sure you were looking at Lockhart’s face, Hermione,” I teased lightly pinching her side. It was like a window shattered, letting sunlight into a darkened building on how quickly Hermione let herself erupt into laughter with me. 

“Oh, shut up, Elle,” Hermione shoved my shoulder lightly. 

Our movements jostled Bernard out of his sleep, and he meowed at us haughtily. The desperate need to feel a release from the tensions of the night was a temptation impossible to resist. Our girlish giggles were the only sound in the curtain drawn bed for a few minutes. Slowly, as we could hardly breathe and our faces were red from the intensity of the laughter, we stopped laughing but a single glance at each other inspired another round until we were both clutching our sides. It wasn’t really that funny of a joke but after a stressful day the stupidest things can become the most hilarious. 

“So,” Hermione smirked at me once we both caught our breath, “You don’t like George anymore? That was fast.” 

“Did you see what they were planning on doing to poor Curry? It was cruel!” I scowled holding out the bright red salamander nestled in my palm, “How could I like someone who wanted to feed a poor animal a firework? I can’t believe I liked him.” 

“Oh, come on. Surely you still like him a little,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “A few days ago you wouldn’t stop talking about how cute his hair looked when he-.” 

“Barely!” I cut her off blushing slightly. It was obvious how much it sounded like I was trying to convince myself of the angry declaration. I leaned out of the curtains to place Curry into an empty glass jewelry box that I decided was the best makeshift cage for him until I could bring him to Hagrid. Once the curtain was closed again, I shook my head at Hermione’s disbelieving face more firmly this time, “It was just a silly crush. Besides, the singer of the Weird Sisters is the dreamiest man alive. I’d be Myron Wagtails wife any day.” 

“Estelle Wagtail,” Hermione tested out the sound of it, “Still E.W.” 

“Estelle Wagtail!” I smiled, slouching against her with a dramatic sigh, “Be still my tender heart!” 

“Alright, Alright,” Hermione smiled, “We should probably go to bed. It’s late and we still have lessons. Chamber or not.” 

“Unfortunately,” I pouted and grabbed Bernard to move to my own bed, “Sweet dreams, Hermione Lockhart.” 

“Ha! Sweet dreams, Estelle Wagtail,” Hermione rolled her eyes and yawned, nestling down into her covers. 

Right after Hermione snuffed out the gas lantern on her bedside table, I whispered, “You really can do so much better than Lockhart. He’s a total goof.” 

“I’m not listening,” Hermione responded in a sing song voice in the near total darkness of the dormitory beside the silvery light of the moon creeping in from the windows. 

“I can’t wait to see that goof tomorrow in class,” Parvati pipped up from out of the darkness playfully, “He’s so beautiful.” 

“Beautiful enough to make you do your homework,” Hermione jested back. 

There was a slight pause before the four second year girls in the Gryffindor tower chorused into a melody of adolescent, feminine giggles so commonly found at slumber parties. It’s just that we were lucky enough that our sleepover parties were every night so long as we managed to get along that day. Hogwarts was wonderful, but the looming threat of this chamber of secrets was growing like mildew in a dark, damp room. 


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Root, Root, Root For The Gryffindors

The entire school was buzzing with the news about the petrification of Mrs. Norris and the bloody message about the chamber reopening. It didn’t help that the darkness of the blood was immune to even Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. The pigment had seeped into the porous beige stone making a convenient in writing to unleash hell upon the school. It was already coming to fruition with Filch passing dentition out like candy for simply blinking out of rhythm or having a shoelace untied. 

At least that was Beck’s gothic take on the bloody message staining the wall. Normally only one or two, if any, of Jareth’s friends would tag along to our tutoring sessions but the entire group of Andrew, Lance, Liza, Jareth, and Beck all turned up staring at me until I told them all exactly what happened. I thought it was crass and apathetic but Lance gave three sickles to Liza at the end of my story about just stumbling across it with a groan. Apparently, she bet him that I had nothing to do with it but was just really unlucky and bluntly stated, “You can’t be the heir of Slytherin. You are a total pansy. You’ve cried two times in this session alone today.” 

“It feels wrong turning a living creature into something else without permission,” I sniffed knowing my face was turning red, "I've turned beetles into buttons but I don't know. This feels different.” 

Hermione had actually sat with us that session and the two of us ended up staying with a fortress of books surrounding us until the boys joined us at our table. Pince was normally more than happy to keep an eye on Ron after his snacking situation first year but the rest of the school had filled the library looking for clues just like Hermione. She had even stumbled across a book about Merlin, with mostly cloudy information I already knew, to write my essay on “The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards” carefully. Hermione wanted to totally submerge herself in this mystery of the chamber but the dark energy only warded me away. I totally immersed myself in writing my paper about Merlin’s role in the assembly, and his advocacy for human-muggle relations. How did the Vaile family become so dark over the years when we descended from the man who was one of history’s biggest campaigners for equal rights? 

“I don’t believe it. I’m still eight inches short and Hermione’s done four feet seven inches and her writing is tiny,” Ron said abandoning the springing roll of parchment in front of him. 

“Where is she?” Harry asked, measuring his own paper. I was mindlessly flipping through the book on Merlin skimming to see if there was anything other than the generic story of Merlin in it. Typical information: raised as one of the few remaining Druids by Cliodhna, survived the genocide, went to Hogwarts, served King Arthur and warred against Morgana, advocated for muggle rights and was murdered by his lover, Nimue, leaving behind two children.

“Over there,” I pointed with my wand with a flourish. Most of the details of Merlin came from the times Camelot interacted with other countries. The nation of Camelot vanished the moment Arthur died. It’s like the lost city of Atlantis. Or maybe it's the same place by a different name. 

“Looking for another book? Guess she wants to read the entire library before Christmas,” Ron scoffed irritably. Harry started to tell Ron and me the way Justin Finch-Fletchley ran away from him earlier terrified. I frowned. Harry must be the least lucky person I’ve ever met. 

“Dunno why you care. I thought he was a bit of an idiot,” Ron confessed messily adding length to his paper in massive letters, “All that junk about Lockhart being so great-.” 

With a flurry of chaotic Hermione energy, she slammed a small stack of books onto the table with an angry grunt, “All the copies of Hogwarts: A History have been taken out and there is a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn’t left my copy at home, but I couldn’t fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books.” 

“You should get a bottomless trunk. I love mine. You just throw anything in,” I purred half-listening to their conversation. 

“Bloody expensive too,” Ron muttered tartly at me and I frowned. I didn’t even know how much it cost. Uncle Jasper just had one made for me. 

“Why do you want it?” Harry asked before sassily rolling his eyes, “The book. Not the trunk.” 

“The same reason everyone else wants it,” She deadpanned as if we were all clueless, “To read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.” 

“Yuck. Count me out. If I get wrapped up in any more excitement this year my Uncle will skin me alive, or kick me out, or both,” I shuttered, closing the orange book softly with a polite hand covered with a yawn. 

“What’s the legend?” Harry ignored my commentary desperate for information. 

“That’s just it. I can’t remember,” said Hermione, scrunching up her nose in thought, “And I can’t find the story anywhere-.” 

“Hermione, let me read your composition,” Ron cut her off, realizing the time with wide eyes. 

“No, I won’t!” She scoffed, “You’ve had ten days to finish it-.” 

“I only need another two inches. C’mon,” Ron moaned but it was too late. The bell had rung and Ron hung his head like a dead man walking. The only thing that made him feel better was bickering with Hermione the entire way to class.

History of Magic was the class I had been most excited about before Uncle Jasper told me that Binns was the most boring professor in all the magical schools by far. My father studied magical history and it was a chance to connect with the stranger but Professor Binns was the most boring ghost throughout Hogwarts. Half the class was napping when I suddenly gasped, but the half-awake section all turned to me eager for entertainment. The movement woke the slumbering students who zeroed in on the curiosity. Clueless Binns didn’t notice for a second the entire class-wide interaction. 

“Did you find it?” Harry asked beside me and the rest of the Gryffindors leaned toward me eagerly.

“Find what?” I blinked, already starting to lose some of my house mate’s attention. 

“The legend about the Chamber,” Harry didn’t lose hope, however, and Ron and Hermione both turned around equally as hopeful. 

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. Nothing to do with that,” I apologized with a wince at the drop in everyone’s faces as they went back to whatever they were doing before and muttered to myself enthralled, “Much better.” 

“What is it?” Harry whispered peering over at the page I was staring at enthralled, happy to have any form of entertainment, and furrowing his brows together at the large picture of a megalith with markings carved into it and pointed to the paragraph below the image, “Runes? It says it’s impossible to translate right there. No one's ever been able to do it.” 

“It’s a spell, Harry. A druid one,” I explained excitedly pointing at the runes explaining what information is preserved into the stone. Harry pulled the book closer to him and cocked his head. 

“You can’t read this, Elle,” He shook his head thinking I was trying to prank him. When I didn’t laugh, he frowned doubtfully, “Right? How can you be the only person that knows?” 

“I think that's the entire point,” I frowned, pulling the long silver chain out from under my grey uniform sweater, and pointed at the runes etched into the amulet to Harry, “I can read those too. I think it’s something that you just…know or you don’t. Like an instinct.” 

“What’s the spell? Can you teach me?” Harry asked, glancing at the drab lecture Binns was giving unaware no one in the room was listening to him at all. 

“It’s describing making an orb of moonlight. I don’t even know if I can do it. It’s wand-less and I’m barely passing transfiguration,” I responded with a grimace, “And you have to learn during the full moon. That’s this Saturday night.”

“Oh,” Harry frowned, slumping his shoulders slightly looking toward me with slight pity and weakly suggested, “Maybe Hermione could help you.” 

“If she can’t, I know a group of know-it-alls who would help,” I snickered slightly thinking of how exasperated Jareth is going to be when I ask for another favor. 

☾☾☾☾

“Excuse me, Professor. I really need to talk to you about today’s lesson,” I tried my best not to look fidgety in front of McGonagall, who was patiently waiting for the classroom to fill up with the Slytherins and Gryffindors to start the lesson. The room was filled with muted conversations, the unpacking of bags, and the rattling of the cages filled with animals to be transfigured. I could sense their fear of the growing number of students. 

“Lessons are to begin shortly, Ms. Vaile. Please take your seat. I’m certain this can wait,” McGonagall pursed her lips pointedly looking at the seat beside Hermione in the second row across the aisle from Harry and Ron. 

“Please, Professor,” I tried my best to appear firm in my approach, “I don’t think I can do this lesson.”

“Mr. Avery told me that you have more than mastered this spell after his own class. Is this not so?” McGonagall raised her eyebrow and placed her quill back into the inkpot. Her voice revealed the thinly veiled irritation at the mention of Jareth. It’s not hard to guess why. Since the sessions have started he’s milked tutoring a younger classmate for all the house points and praise possible. 

“Well,…Yes, he told you the truth,” I winced, “But-.” 

“You can discuss it with me once the lesson concludes if you wish. Find your seat, Ms. Vaile,” McGonagall left no room for argument and sent me glumly back to my own seat beside Hermione. She didn’t understand my point about the ethics of Transfiguring creatures against their will in the name of education or how much it had been eating me up and glanced at me with a small eye roll. Draco caught my eye and snickered at my head of house refusing to listen to me, and I gave him a fierce scowl, threw myself in the seat, and ignored the ball of paper he threw at the back of my head. A small grey mouse twitched it’s whiskers up at me, and squeaked in a shrill chatter. 

“I tried. I’m sorry,” I pouted down at the rodent slipping my fingertip between the bars of the small cage to nuzzle its fur. The mouse was quick to run its small body along my fingers. Mice really do have such short attention spans. 

“Estelle, really. It’s just a mouse. Dumbledore wouldn’t approve of anything inhumane at Hogwarts,” Hermione said. 

“Even Dumbledore can’t fight centuries of animal neglect,” I mumbled moodily, “I bet you wouldn’t like being turned into a goblet either.” 

Hermione opened her mouth to debate but slammed it the moment McGonagall rose from her desk. The silent classroom echoed the professor’s stern tone back to her, “Could I have your attention, please? Right. Now, today, we will be transforming animals into water goblets.” 

"Like monsters," I muttered under my breath, which made Hermione elbow me in the ribs harshly. 

“Like so. One, two, three, Vera verto,” She had walked over to a beautifully colored Hornbill and demonstrated by replacing the beautiful bird with a glossy, gold-rimmed glass goblet, much to the excitement of her students, and the sound of her boots clipped against the stone stairs to walk between the desks of the students, “Now it’s your turn. Well, who would like to go first?”

My eyes avoided her eyes and glumly crossed my arms across my chest tensely. Luckily, she stopped in front of Ron and nodded at Scabbers napping on his textbook, “Ah! Mr. Weasley. “One, two, three. Vera verto.”

“Ahem. Vera verto!” Ron’s wand shot puss green sparks from the tip, and with a squeal, Scabbers was a goblet, but with a tail and fur. 

The class roared with laughter at the failure but all I could do was frown at the poor animal. Did it still have thoughts? Was it paralyzed but sentient? How were there no animal rights about this kind of thing? I'm sure muggles have strict rules against animal cruelty. Wizards shouldn't think they are above such regulations. I should make a petition to send to the Minister of Magic.

“That wand needs replacing, Mr. Weasley. Yes, Miss Granger?” McGonagall prompted Hermione. She was talking about how she wanted to ask our head of house about the Chamber before class. I shook my head at her but she pretended to not see me. We were in the middle of the lesson. Plus, the less I know about the Chamber the less real it feels. The more it feels like a twisted prank rather than an actual threat the better I cope with seeing Mrs. Norris with those glass eyes. 

“Professor, I was wondering if you could tell us about…the Chamber of Secrets?” For once in her life, Hermione actually sounded somewhat reluctant to pester her professors for information. 

The entire class stilled and must have looked like a sea of ghoulishly wide-eyed children the way we leaned forward on the benches toward the Professor. It was obvious the question took our head of house off guard from the moment of shocked silence in the room. Even the snot-nosed Slytherins looked eager to know and didn’t have a drop of judgment or jest about them.

McGonagall’s tight sigh broke the silence, and she tensely fixed her emerald robes and peered down at us from the small silver glasses resting on the end of her nose. Her body language was extremely closed off.

“Well, very well. Well, you all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Now, three of the founders coexisted quite harmoniously. One did not,” She began the legend of the story everyone was hunting down. 

Ron snorted loudly, and rolled his eyes to Harry, “Three guesses who.” 

The comment amused every Gryffindor in the room, including McGonagall. Forever a Gryffindor, the professor almost entirely repressed her smirk and pointed at Ron with a nod, “Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. In other words, “pure-bloods.”

Draco, from his spot behind Harry, made sure to smirk at Hermione and me arrogantly. I could see Hermione glare from the corner of my eye but I just pointedly ignored my pureblood childhood friend. Pansy and Daphne smiled at each other with upturned noses from their spots two desks behind him. 

McGonagall never noticed the interaction, or maybe she just knew to expect it, and retold, “Unable to sway the others, he decided to leave the school. Now, according to legend, Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in this castle, known as the Chamber of Secrets. Though, shortly before departing, he sealed it until that time when his own true heir returned to the school. The heir alone would be able to open the Chamber and unleash the horror within, and by so doing purge the school of all those who, in Slytherin’s view, were unworthy to study magic.”

“Muggleborns,” Hermione stated, looking a slight bit teary-eyed. The topic of blood purity froze all the blood in my body. This topic was going to tear me to shreds if I let it. McGonagall solemnly nodded at her curly-headed student. 

“Well, naturally, the school had been searched many times. No such chamber has been found,” McGonagall ended the story with a weak attempt at offering her young pupils comfort but none felt soothed in the face of such recent horrors. 

My stomach twisted. Greengrass. Vaile. I was exactly the kind of witch a wizard like Slytherin would adore. I was raised to be a perfect Slytherin lady, but I failed. But with each passing day, it feels more and more like a blessing. 

Hermione wasn’t done with the only source of information on the topic and stalled the return to the lecture, "Professor? What exactly does legend tell us lies within the Chamber?”

Everyone, including icy Daphne and prejudiced Draco, felt their heart freeze the moment McGonagall reluctantly explained, “Well, the Chamber is said to be home to something that only the Heir of Slytherin can control. It is said to be the home of a monster.” 

My mind hopelessly spun through all the monsters and beasts I’ve fascinated over since I could read. Nothing came to mind. Everything seemed possible and impossible at the same time. What could survive sealed away for centuries without discovery? Few things came to mind. It had to be rare. Maybe even something from legend. The rest of the class seemed to be similarly distracted for the rest of the lesson. 

My eyes never left McGonagall as she walked around the room giving praise and pointers to the students learning the spell. Anytime she walked by me or glanced in my direction I pretended to be reviewing Lance Sao’s notes on the spell or waving my wand at the little grey mouse. Hermione was less than pleased at my attempt to be sneaky. No one wanted house points taken away, especially after how many our group lost last year. Norberta was a handful. I wonder how she was growing up. Perhaps Hagrid and I should send a letter to Charlie Weasley and ask about it.

It wasn’t until the emerald robed witch returned to her elevated desk at the front of the classroom that my failure to fool McGonagall was not just Hermione religiously following the rules. I could hear Malfoy and Crabb snickering with Pansy off to the side when I was summoned to her desk. My undoubtedly red face looked everywhere but her stern, unamused expression. 

“Ms. Vaile, it is unlike you to behave in such an openly defiant manner alone. If you don’t explain to me why you are not participating in the lesson or begin participating, house points will be taken and you will receive a detention,” McGonagall frowned down at me. Her voice was quiet enough to give the conversation privacy but it was obvious to the curious class that I wasn’t being exactly praised. 

“It’s what I wanted to talk to you about before class, Professor. It feels wrong to transfigure animals when they can’t consent or tell us if it’s painful. It feels we are taking advantage of living creatures just because we have the power to do it. It's not fair to them,” My voice sounded weak, yet firm in a very contradictory way. 

“I can assure you that this has been the standard practice for centuries, and is the best method of learning transfiguration,” She gave her best political response clearly hoping the tradition and years would reassure me that it was alright if nothing had been changed before this point. 

“It feels wrong. There are so many things about it that don’t make sense to me. I can't stop thinking about it. Like, what if you never transfigure them back? Does that count as killing an animal? People change hedgehogs to pincushions but can they still feel the pins going into them? Are they scared? Do they still have their thoughts as the object?” I babbled off the thoughts nagging in my brain since Jareth forced me to learn the spell in our last session and the guilt never left. 

“Well, Ms. Vaile. I can see this has worked you up but you will have to simply figure out a way to push past this as the Transfiguration education at Hogwarts is mandatory in order to graduate,” McGonagall reminded me. 

I tried my best not to appear as desperate and frustrated as I felt, “But I just don’t see a situation that I would need a goblet so desperately, have a specific animal nearby and it even be worth traumatizing a living creature. Aren’t there other transfiguration spells I can learn instead? Things more useful that I could learn?” 

“No student will get special treatment, even in my own house. I will inquire about your concerns with Dumbledore so you can return to your schooling. Please return to your seat,” McGonagall sniffed tightly, effectively ending the discussion clearly viewing it as a foolish and peace-loving radical stance. Has no one else ever had these reservations?

When the class concluded, my mood was noticeably sour and the others knew better than to prod with me at the moment. Hermione suggested looking in the library for books about the ethics of Transfiguration, but I hadn’t found anything last time I skimmed the spins of tombs in the Transfiguration section. Besides, the only thing anyone really wanted to talk about was the priceless legend McGonagall shared with us that had the castle so frazzled. You could hear Dean discussing it with Lavender and Seamus behind us with just as keen of interest. Well, I suppose no one is as hypnotized by the event as the unfortunate group that discovered it. 

“D’you think it’s true? D’you think there really is a Chamber of Secrets?” Ron asked, holding his notebook in his hand tightly. The hall was lightly filled with students wrapping up for the day. There was a loose flow of second years moving out of the Transfiguration department. 

Hermione scoffed, shooting Ron a judgmental look, “Yes. Couldn’t you tell? McGonagall’s worried. All the teachers are.”

“Well, if there really is a Chamber of Secrets, a-and it really has been opened, then that means-,” Harry started only to be cut off by Hermione, whose face was twisted in suspicion and a twinge of fear. 

“The Heir of Slytherin has returned to Hogwarts. The question is, who is it?” Hermione frowned at her friends. My brain wondered who it could possibly be. It couldn’t be a first-year right? Magic like this would be too complex I’m sure. But who?

“Let’s think,” Ron scoffed hotly, as Malfoy walked by with Crabb and Goyle making sure to shoulder check me and stumble slightly into Ron beside me, “Who do we know who thinks all Muggle-borns are scum?” 

“If you’re talking about Malfoy-,” Hermione hissed glaring at the back of his blonde head. 

“Of course. You heard him! ‘You’ll be next Mudbloods,” Ron attempted to whisper the last word but he was too worked up to really deafen it well. 

“Don’t say that word,” I mumbled to him feeling stiff. They all gave me a glance but Ron nodded in agreement with my criticism. None of us should ever say it.

“I heard him. But Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?” Hermione scoffed in disbelief and I couldn’t help but agree. I would have known about this for as long as I could remember if the Malfoy’s were the heir of Slytherin. They would use anything they could to boast, especially lineage to their beloved Hogwarts house. 

“Well, maybe Ron’s right, Hermione. I mean, look at his family. The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin for centuries,” Harry countered Hermione fully ready to condemn his rival. I shot him a look glumly. 

“So has my family. Am I a suspect too?” I pouted, “Crabb and Daphne are my first cousins, if you forgot.” 

“Of course not! You’re a Gryffindor,” Ron rolled his eyes at me but pointing at me playing off part of my statement, “Crabbe and Goyle must know. Maybe we could trick them into telling.” 

“Draco would have been telling everyone with ears if he was the heir of Slytherin the moment we started classes last year. Trust me, it’s not him,” I argued trying to convince them of their blindness. 

“Oh, like you two are so close,” Ron rebutted sarcastically. 

“We were once. I'd know,” I crossed my arms immediately regretting the statement because of the various looks of disapproval and judgment formed across my friends' faces, and added to quickly recover, “I’m telling you. The Malfoys wouldn’t be able to keep their bloodline a secret if they were the heirs of Slytherin. Are you all mad? It would be all they ever talked about. Merlin, I can recite their entire family history right now if you wanted me to. I've heard it enough times. Besides, even if Draco told Crabb and Goyle as a secret, they would never tell anyone. They do everything he says.” 

“I agree with Estelle. Even they aren’t that thick. But there might be another way,” Hermione paused in our walk from the classroom and bit her lip in deep internal debate, “Mind you, it would be difficult. Not to mention, we would be breaking about fifty school rules. And, it’ll be dangerous. Very dangerous.” 

“Show me,” Harry didn’t hesitate to indulge Hermione’s fledgling plan. She nodded and sharply turned into a corridor off to the side headed for the library with Harry hot on her heels. I glanced at Ron, who looked just as tired as I felt as we sluggishly followed after them. 

“I hate the library,” Ron mumbled to me. 

“Are we all ignoring the part that she said it would be super dangerous? Can’t we be normal students for once?” I chided back to him as Harry and Hermione were shoulder to shoulder in front of us whispering in hurried tones about her plan, “We could sign up for art club. I’m sure your Mother would love some homemade crafts.”

“Crafts? Ha! Fat chance with those two. At this rate, we might not even make it to graduation,” Ron winced, “As long as Percy doesn’t figure out the plan and tell my Mum. I’m already in the dog house.” 

“Tell me about it,” I nodded thinking of my own home life. 

☾☾☾☾

“You can not be serious, Hermione. We can’t brew that! It’s mad. That’s N.E.W.T level. Have you thought about what can happen if we mess anything up?” I gasped at the potion’s recipe on the desk, off to the side where we huddle together to plot discreetly. Hermione looked up and gave me a look normally reserved for Ron. 

“Here it is. ‘The Polyjuice Potion.’” Hermione pointedly ignored my comment letting the boys huddle over the book, "Properly brewed, the Polyjuice Potion allows the drinker to transform himself temporarily into the physical form of another.” 

“Do you mean, if Harry and I drink that stuff, we’ll turn into Crabbe and Goyle?” Ron seemed a little green at the idea. 

“Yes,” Hermione nodded. I frowned and slid the book over to me and started reading the instructions. 

“Brillant! Malfoy’ll tell us anything.” Ron smiled brightly. The brilliance of the plan seemed to invigorate them but they hadn’t even read the instructions. I was the strongest in Potions in our group and even I was reluctant to risk messing up such a dangerous potion. 

“Exactly. But it’s tricky. I’ve never seen a more complicated potion,” Hermione frowned, going to grab the book back but I shot her a look and kept reading. These fools were going to get themselves killed, “I’m sure Elle and I could figure it out.”

“Well, how long will it take to make?” Harry asked 

“A month,” Hermione and I echoed. She shot me a tense glare and I just shook my head at her in disbelief. 

“A month?” Harry’s jaw dropped, “But, Hermione, if Malfoy is the Heir of Slytherin, he could attack half the Muggle-borns in the school by then.”

“I know. But it’s the only plan we’ve got,” Hermione shrugged reluctantly. 

“I’m telling you right now this isn’t worth it. Best case scenario you waste a month on this potion and figure out what I’ve been trying to tell you. Draco is the last person you should be looking at,” I shook my head handing the book back to Hermione, “Please believe me.” 

“You can’t honestly tell me you don’t see it,” Harry frowned, “How can you defend him?” 

“I’m not...defending him,” I said gently, feeling nerves tickle the back of my neck, “I know the Malfoys. Besides, where are we even going to brew this? Have you seen the ingredient list? It’s rare stuff, and Sprout would know if I took anything from the greenhouse. I don’t want to lose my spot in the Herbology Club because you guys don't trust me. But maybe you have powdered horn of a bicorn, and shredded boomslang skin in your trunk?” 

“I have a few ideas,” Hermione said hesitantly, “We will just have to be careful. Very, very careful.” 

“You can count me out,” I crossed my arms, earning looks of annoyance, “I’m telling you it’s not him. Are you really willing to die or, I don’t know, get disfigured forever about this?” 

“Forever?” Ron gulped under his breath after a long stretch of silence and added tersely to Harry, “It’ll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow.” 

“If I can even catch up to him,” Harry scowled darkly. 

☾☾☾☾

Normally the only thing that could get me excited about the Quidditch games wasn’t the actual sport but the fanfare around it. The excitement consumed the thoughts about monsters lurking in the shadows for one Saturday afternoon and the school desperately needed it. No one had ever wanted the Slytherins to lose more badly. The entire pitch was cheering on the house of the brave, with Ravenclaw being the most divided. 

Pavarti, Dean, and I worked with a few third years to create some bright posters to rally the team’s fighting spirit. Lucy Sao, Lance’s younger sister, was the exact opposite of him perfectly embodying a Gryffindor. She was bold, good-humored, and outgoing. If you let her she would talk your ear off. If she didn’t have the same features as her older brother who was filled with anxieties and kept to himself I wouldn’t have any idea they were siblings. Talia Bridges, her best friend who was also a third-year Gryffindor, worked on the posters with us. She was curvy, with a neatly cared for puff of curls, a strong jawline, and plump lips. Her dark skin looked amazing in her bright yellow jumper with a butterbeer brand logo on it. She was more of the determined, thrill seeker kind of Gryffindor but mostly fiddled with the radio to make sure we had the best working music. Unlike intrusive Colin Creevy, when she used her beloved camera to take pictures of the activities it was cool and creative.

The day was muggy and the suggestion of thunder tingled against the students and staff nestling into the bleacher stands waiting for the teams to zoom out onto the pitch. The energy was already high and nothing had happened yet. Chants and the waving of posters made the stands vibrate under my black boots. I wore a thick shift dress in a scarlet fabric with black and white houndstooth detailing, and two pockets lined in black. A cashmere black turtleneck and black tights kept me warm under my house robes. Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa had crossed my path earlier, and the woman of the family gave me a long up and down but said nothing. Of course, they attended their son's first match. 

Once the game started, time went in three-time speed. The tensions were high and the entire school was anxious to see Slytherin beaten. The green-clad team was not hesitating to use dirty moves and unsportsmanlike behavior. Fred and George, not that I cared after everything that happened on Halloween, looked exhausted fighting off the bludger so relentlessly targeting their teammates. Even I, who couldn’t care less about the sport beyond my friend’s happiness, was getting anxious about the elusive golden snitch.

☾☾☾☾

“Blimey! Harry’s got himself a rogue Bludger! That’s been tampered with, that has!” Hagrid bellowed from behind us throwing his binoculars away from his face in anger. My mouth dropped. The bludger was hot on Harry’s broomsticks and wasn’t giving up no matter the skillful weaving Harry was attempting. 

“I’ll stop it!” Ron declared pointing his taped wand at Harry. Hermione’s eyes widened and hastily pulled his casting arm down to his side. 

“No! Even with a proper wand it’s too risky. You could hit Harry!” She hissed. 

“It's going to snap his neck,” I shrieked watching Harry suddenly zoom off toward the snitch with Malfoy and the bludger hot on his heels. They went below the stands chasing the golden snitch, and my skin prickled with nerves unable to see my friend's condition. Suddenly, Malfoy flew onto the grassy pitch with his broom flying over his head nearby. Harry wasn’t too far behind him and skidded into a bank of sand but he had the snitch gripped tightly in his gloved hand. 

The crowd broke out in a roar of cheering, but Hermione pulled on Ron and I’s black robes and said, “Let’s go!” 

We all ran down the stairs as quickly as possible, and I nearly tripped over my robe once or twice at the speed. The cheering only grew more and more with each second by the time we reached the ground and saw Harry in our line of vision I could barely hear myself think. A nasty gasp came from me in sync with the Bludger slamming down onto the ground over and over attempting to cave in Harry’s skull. 

“Finite incantatem!” Hermione waved her wand, exploding the ball into a thousand maroon sparks, and led the way to Harry’s side. I didn’t notice when it had happened but his arm was clutched to his chest and limping pointed at a strange angle. My hand rested on Harry’s shoulder in concern. 

“Thank you,” Harry nodded at Hermione breathlessly. Lockhart came to Harry’s other side. His army green robes pooling around him lavishly. It made his perfectly crafted look of concern look that much more acted out. 

“Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital wing?” I frowned. His skin looked pale for having just won the game stressing him out so much for the past few months. 

“No, I think my- I think my arm’s broken,” Harry’s voice was tense and strained through the pain. 

Lockhart pulled out his wand and smiled exposing his bone-white teeth, “Not to worry, Harry. I will fix that arm of yours straight away.”

“No, not you.” Harry’s expression of terror would have been comical if I didn’t feel the exact same way. A crowd had begun to form around Harry, which only encouraged Lockhart’s addiction to the spotlight. The professor beamed up at the crowd closing in around us and chuckled lightly. His face turned dramatic and stoic and used his gloved hand to pull Harry’s sleeve up. The arm was already starting to purple and swell. 

“Oh, poor boy doesn’t know what he’s saying. Now, this… won’t hurt a bit,” Lockhart's soothing voice only increased my stress, “ Brackium emendo!” 

A shower of blue light ebbed from the tip of Lockhart's wand, and when it faded Harry’s arm limply flopped downward from Lockhart’s hand of support. It seemed like nothing was structuring the limb, like a broken bone. My stomach flipped at the sight of the rubbery flesh. The crowd around us murmured in repulsion at the sight of Harry’s now boneless arm. Lockhart was fast at doing damage control. 

“Ah, yes, well, ha, that can sometimes happen, um, but, uh, the point is, uh,…,” He stammered bending the wrist backward like soft clay only for it to spring back the moment he let go, “You can no longer feel any pain, and, heh, very clearly, the bones are not broken.” 

“Broken?” Hagrid bellowed in horror, “There’s no bones left!” 

“Much more flexible, though,” Lockhart joked, amusing his most passionate fans in the crowd. 

I shook my head and pulled Harry to his feet gently away from the professor before he tried another spell on Harry, “Pomfrey can help. Don’t worry.”

☾☾☾☾

Madam Pomfrey was not normally pleased with all the healing she had to do after a Quidditch match but this was a different level of frustration. She was spread thin already, as Malfoy sprawled out in a bed, with Pansy cooing over his dramatic moaning, and the other friends in the group silently there for support. Daphne stood with her arms crossed leaning against the wall half bored with the dramatics. I caught her eye and she sneered at our rowdy group unimpressed before turning to Blaise, who was always subtly eager for her attention. Pomfrey sped past the blonde boy and rolled her eyes at him. It was hard to feel bad for Draco because of the way he acted. Lucius and Narcissa were quick to leave the game after their son’s defeat regardless of the gifted brooms. Clearly, he was trying to get the attention his parents denied him in his defeat.

“Oh, Mr. Malfoy, stop making such a fuss, you can go,” Pomfrey was no-nonsense, parting the sea of Gryffindor students sharply to stand beside Harry, “Out of my way. Out of my way! Should’ve been brought straight to me. I can mend bones in a heartbeat but growing them back…”

“You will be able to, won’t you?” Hermione shuttered. The rubber arm was unsettling on many levels, and it wasn’t even attached to my body. I could only imagine how Harry felt with the floppy limb. He looked positively ghostly. 

“Oh, I’ll be able to, certainly. But it’ll be painful. You’re in for a rough night, Potter. Regrowing bones is a nasty business,” Pomfrey frowned sternly passing Harry a swig of the potion. The moment it touched his taste buds Harry shot the potion out toward the twins and Dean Thomas at the end of the bed. My new issue with the twins was still at a stalemate as they refused to apologize for traumatizing the salamander on Halloween. 

“Well, what do you expect? Pumpkin juice?” Pomfrey scowled at Harry, unimpressed going to pour another cupful. Harry swallowed it and violently gagged for a few moments until I passed him a glass of water to wash it down. The entire cup was chugged within seconds. The taste must be terrible. I’ve never heard of anyone regrowing bones. 

“You will have to stay the night,” Pomfrey declared handing a neatly folded pair of pajamas to Harry’s good arm. While Ron was helping Harry due to his new handicap behind a drawn curtain, Pomfrey quickly cleared out the majority of Harry’s groupies besides Hermione, and I. The boys were taking a minute and Hermione shared an amused smirk at the sound of the boys bickering like brothers. 

“How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, Eh?” Ron called from behind the curtain, “If Harry wanted deboning, he would have asked.” 

“At least we know how to remove bones…in case, um, it ever comes up,” I winced trying to add something positive while helping Hermione defend her idiotic crush. Anything to keep the peace. 

“Anyone can make a mistake. And it doesn’t hurt anymore, does it, Harry?” Hermione directed the attention back to our poor friend behind the curtain. Ron, with little grace, pulled the curtain back showing a freshly changed Harry looking unimpressed at his rubbery arm.

“No, but it doesn’t do much of anything else either,” He scowled getting into the bed. 

“We won, though,” Ron said brightly as if it suddenly hit him, “That was some catch you made. Malfoy’s face…He looked ready to kill.” 

“I want to know how he fixed that Bludger,” Hermione said darkly. 

“Couldn’t it have hit him too?” I frowned, “I don’t think Draco would cheat like that. It's too risky and his parents came to watch the match.” 

“I’d think the bludger hit you with how much you’ve been defending Malfoy lately,” Ron grumbled at me. I stiffened. The last thing I want is to lose another group of friends. 

“I'm just saying it could have been anyone that hates Harry,” I tried to correct.

“Gee, Estelle. Thanks for the reminder,” Harry said with the roll of his eyes, “We can add that to the list of questions we’ll ask him when we’ve taken the Polyjuice Potion. I hope it tastes better than this stuff.” 

“If it’s got bits of Slytherins in it? You’ve got to be joking,” Ron gagged. 

“Alright, you three,” Pomfry walked back looking at the students crowded around her patient's bed, “This boy needs rest. He’s got thirty-three bones to regrow. Out. Out!” 

☾☾☾☾

The moon was full and silvery casting the second year boy’s dormitory in a cool light. The various clothes, pages of homework, and snack wrappers were all tinted blue. It was one of the first nights of winter, as November escorted autumn from the grounds. Snow would begin to fall soon. 

Ron and Hermione were watching me lay out the orange Merlin book in front of my crossed legs on the scarlet rug. Hermione was perched on Harry’s, or maybe Neville’s, trunk filled with curious anticipation. She was excited to see if my find was something of note. Ron was propped up against the end of his bed trying his best to be supportive. He was all for me finding a way to connect myself to my father and offered his dorm to attempt the ritual away from the celebration in the common room. It was the first victory of the year, and the Gryffindors were consumed with their joy. The dull muffle of music crept under the door but it was easy to tune out. 

Bernard leaped into Hermione’s lap and twitched his tail in irritation toward Ron’s rat, who was wrapped safely in his jumper. Hermione was the first one to speak, “Are you sure…this is safe?” 

“Can’t be more dangerous than Lumos, right?” I bit my lip unsure but Ron and Hermione both remained tense, “I have to try. I don’t know anything about my family. This is all I’ve got.” 

“Yeah,” Ron nodded encouragingly, “Won’t hurt to try, at least.” 

“What do you have to do, again?” Hermione frowned, “Are you sure you're reading those runes right?” 

“I’m not really sure about any of this,” I giggled and read from the parchment of translated runes, "O, whey-face moon. Mine own soul beguil'd through the m're sight of thy pearlescence. Illuminate the path lac'd in shadows i might not but treadeth, lull with thy soft caress, guideth me f'rev'rm're. On thee day of thy completion, the lonely night hencef'rth beest driven hence by thy silv'r beams to cradle me from darkness. Till mine own final twilight in thy s'renity, thy incandescence shalt swaddle me as if 't be true i wast thy babe."

“The poem doesn’t even rhyme,” Ron frowned. 

“Poems don’t always have to rhyme, Ron,” Hermione scoffed. My friends looked annoyed and about ready to bicker for the rest of the night. Harry’s absence was like a rift in the flow of the group dynamics. It reminded me of the small period after the philosopher’s stone was saved and Harry laid in a hospital wing bed with the world was spurring around his still body. 

Trying to ward away the feelings of silliness, I held out my hands, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. The silver chain of the Druid’s glass amulet felt icy against my exposed neck. Visualizing the brightness of pale moonlight nestled in my palms, I softly said, “Leoht.”

There was a silent pause, and my heart started pounding in my chest when the center of my palms started to tingle. The nauseous wooziness I felt the night of Halloween started to creep up my shoulders, and a stake of lava felt like it was driven into my skull. But my focus on the warmth in my hands was stubborn and ferocious. Suddenly, as if it were a fire dosed in water, my palms receded back into a numb coolness and the energy I felt bubbling within myself became flat. My eyelids opened up the tiniest sliver, and I gazed down at my pink-tinged fingertips. Sorrow washed over me. How was I supposed to connect with my family if this is my only way and I totally failed? 

“Maybe you didn’t say it right,” Ron suggested trying to be optimistic. Nausea and the pounding of my head swelled. I nodded at my friend and glared down at my palms in determination. 

“Leoht,” I tried again without even the smaller twinge of warmth, “Leoht. Leoht. Leoht. LEOHT!” 

My eyes were starting to fill with frustrated and pained tears the more I failed with each cast. I felt each attempt drain my energy more and more. My entire body felt brittle and raw. I didn’t notice Hermione had knelt next to me until her hands gently brought my palms to rest in my lap, “Elle, stop. You’re bleeding.” 

“What?” I shook my head suddenly aware of the hot stream of liquid running from my nose and used my finger to check what it was. My ivory skin looked skeletal with the sheen of blood against it. The dazed thought process deriving from my pounding head and slightly ill stomach morphed my voice into a far off whisper, “Like when Norberta was born.”

“You shouldn’t push it, Elle,” Ron agreed with Hermione. 

“You don’t understand! This is all I have of him! If my father was still alive I wouldn’t have to be learning this magic alone,” I snapped, consumed with my hurricane of physical and emotional ills. 

“Then you can try again next month. You can’t expect to master a spell on the first try, Elle,” Hermione gently advised, “This magic is really ancient. It’s going to take time.” 

“I know,” I sighed dejectedly, bringing a hand to rub my pounding temple, “I just wanted to connect with him. I've been told so much about my mother but nothing about him.” 

(Normal translation of the poem: O, pale moon. My soul beguiled through the mere sight of your pearlescence. Illuminate the path laced in shadows I must tread, Lull with your soft caress, Guide me forevermore. On thee day of thy completion, the lonely night henceforth be driven away by thy silver beams to cradle me from darkness. Till my final twilight in your serenity, thy incandescence shall swaddle me as if I was your babe)

☾☾☾☾

Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was still, and unwelcoming as the ghost herself. When Hermione suggested the abandoned girl's bathroom my migraine pounded in anticipation of hearing the sound of the ghost’s theatrics. I looked just about as ghoulish as she did this Sunday. Despite Hermione and Ron’s concern, I hadn’t been able to help myself from chanting the druid light spell over and over again with my bed’s curtains pulled together tightly. My nostrils were still rimmed with the stain of blood. Paired with the purple eye bags and limp black hair, it only makes sense that the rumors of Estelle Vaile attempting druid magic quickly turned into attempting dark, ancient magic to curse whoever hexed the bludger that broke Harry’s arm. 

Normally I would have volunteered to start brewing the base of the potion but the smell of the hot cauldron alone made my stomach twist. Hermione wasn’t that far behind me skill-wise anyway. The massive windows and art deco sink in the bathroom were beautiful, especially in the silent solitude of the haunted bathroom. No one ever enjoyed the architecture. 

It was shocking Harry even found us, after being released from Pomfrey’s care with an arm of newly grown bones and a plethora of bad news to deliver. First Harry told us, after inquiring why I looked so drained, about Colin Creevy. There was another attack. 

“We already know. We heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That’s why we decided we’d better get going-,” Hermione informed Harry without looking away from the cauldron blowing steam up into her frizzy hair. Every turn of the potion made the size of her hair grow from the humid fumes. 

“The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better,” Ron snarled, cutting Hermione off angrily. “D’you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin.” 

“Guys,” I pleaded, rubbing my temple lightly, “It’s not him. I know it’s not.” 

Ron sent me a nasty look, but Harry cut off whatever his rebuttal was going to be with a heavy tone, “Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night.” 

“D-dobby?” I stammered feeling the warmth drain from my face, and a weight dropped into the middle of my stomach. Dobby was the Malfoy house elf. Surely, there must be other house elves named Dobby. No, no. It can’t be him. He’s too kind. 

Harry’s eyebrows pulled together at my shock, “The house elf that tried to get me expelled. Do you know him?”

“I know of a house elf named Dobby,” I weakly shrugged, running my hands through my hair, “But it could be a common name.”

Harry launched into everything Dobby told him with hurried tones and urgent body language. With every word about the encounter it became harder and harder to deny that Dobby wasn’t the Dobby I knew and loved. He told us that it was Dobby who cursed the bludger and closed the platform on the first day of school in hopes it would get Harry to leave Hogwarts. My once firm belief that Draco and his family had nothing to do with it was flimsy at best now. Why hadn’t they bragged about being the heirs of Slytherin? How long have they planned this? 

“Again? You mean the Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?” Hermione gasped in horror. She delicately tipped a glass vile into the bubbling potion dividing her attention like a master of multitasking. 

Ron scoffed, “Of course. Don’t you see? Lucius Malfoy must have opened it when he was at school here. And now he’s taught Draco how to do it.”

“Maybe,” Hermione pursed her lips adding a shaking a few handfuls of herbs directly into the potion, “We’ll have to wait for the Polyjuice Potion to know for sure.”

Ron’s face was unamused. He was about as happy to be gathering in this particular bathroom as I was. I caught Harry’s eye. He knew I was hiding something. Ron’s huff was dramatic and precluded his complaint, “Enlighten me. Why are we brewing this potion in broad daylight, in the middle of a girl’s lavatory? Don’t you think we’ll get caught?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” I giggled after Hermione, and I shared a mischievous glance. 

“Ha,” Hermione laughed in an all-knowing tone, “No. No one ever comes in here.”

“Why?” Ron deadpanned in disbelief. He was asking for it now. I looked around the room for any flashes of ghostly blue uniform robes. 

“Moaning Myrtle,” Hermione smiled as if Ron was asking for it. The moment she said the ghost’s name, the teenage ghost peered out of her favorite stall peering at us through her thick glasses from behind Ron. She didn’t see but I tried to greet her with a warm smile knowing fully well how sensitive she was after a misunderstanding last year. It was before Halloween when I wandered around the castle avoiding the Slytherins and I ran in here crying after Pansy found me alone. 

“Moaning Myrtle,” Hermione said again. Ron had no idea but she was greeting the ghost that was creeping up behind him rather than responding to the inquiry. 

“Who?” Ron asked in a bored drawl. Moaning Myrtle had officially heard enough and was losing her patience. 

“Moaning Myrtle,” Hermione said again nodding to motion the unhappy ghost creeping up behind him hastily. 

“Who’s Moaning Myrtle?” Ron snapped tiredly of getting the same response once again. Oh no, now he’s done it. I took a step toward Moaning Myrtle to defend Ron’s rude but unintentional jab. It was too late. Moaning Myrtle bucked up at Ron, who jumped in surprise, sending him flat against the stall he leaned against. The freckles on his face wrinkled together fearfully. 

“I’m Moaning Myrtle!”

“I wouldn’t expect you to know me! Who would ever talk about ugly, miserable, moping Moaning Myrtle?” She flew away from Ron hotly above the grand sink structure, and dove back into her familiar stall behind Ron with a haunting wail that made my migraine throb painfully from the shrillness, “Aaaaahhhh.” 

“She’s a little sensitive,” Hermione explained to Harry and Ron who couldn’t get over their horror of it all.

“I feel bad for her,” I whispered hoping she couldn’t overhear and take offense, “She’s so young.” 

“Do you think she’ll tell the professors?” Harry asked the two of us, “We don’t have time to get caught.”

“I think she might enjoy the company,” I theorized before everything that was said came back to me, “Are you sure his name was Dobby?” 

“Pretty sure,” Harry rolled his eyes sarcastically, “Pretty hard to forget him.” 

“Then, I have to tell you guys something,” I ignored the nagging in my gut to keep it a secret and the thoughts of Lucius, Jasper, and Narcissa hearing about my accusation, “The Malfoy’s have a house elf named Dobby. He’s so sweet though. I can’t see him doing any of this.” 

“Are you serious? This is proof! Draco’s the Heir of Slytherin!” Ron gasped, narrowing his eyes at me slightly, “You don’t still think they’re innocent, do you?”

“I…,” I trailed off and tugged the ends of my sleeves over my hands, “I don’t know.” 

“Only one way to find out,” Hermione smirked in victory. Her hands firmly held the mixer stirring the liquid rippling within carefully. 

“Hermione’s got a point,” Harry nodded joining our friends, roping me into their plan egging me into joining them, “You’ll know for sure if you help us. Plus you could intimidate them the best. You grew up with them. What if Draco asks about something we don’t know about? We need you, Elle.” 

“My Uncle would kill me if he finds out. We can’t get caught,” I winced anxiously but quickly motioned Hermione out of the way and grabbed a few ingredients, “It was only a matter of time. Hermione added too much moondew.”

“I did not!” Hermione huffed indignantly crossing her arms.

“Some went over when you measured it. That’s why Snape makes us measure out away from the cauldron. You added the perfect amount of powdered valerian,” I smiled softly getting her to relax a little. She smiled back and happily went back to reading over the instructions for the hundredth time since we started and double-checked things on her list. 


	21. Chapter Twenty: The Dueling Club

The month of November passed in a tense state of terror. The last attack against a student, especially the innocent, tiny student Colin made the holiday spirit drown from the overwhelming dread. The first years were now exclusively seen in large pods moving through the castle flinching at every flickering, candlelit shadow, or out of place sound. It was one of their own that was attacked.

Ginny Weasley was beside herself with grief about her housemate and her brother’s attempts to soothe her were only helpful in theory. Fred and George’s idea of making their sister cheer up was to simply take turns giving themselves painful, oozy boils and colorful fur. Bernie seemed to be the only thing that soothed her, which I didn’t mind with how busy balancing Herbology Club, Transfiguration tutoring, and brewing the secret potion was making me. There was simply no free time left in my days. I even packed up some of his favorite danish cat treats for her to keep in her bedside table, which seemed to really make her happy. 

Margret Brown was in a similar state of worry. The day the news broke of Colin’s attack we had been scheduled together to work on greenhouse four, and she cried so hard that Professor Sprout heard the wails from her office in an entire greenhouse over, and dismissed us early holding Margret back to be a good head of house to the distraught teenage girl. Her special ballet lessons were barely still allowed, and her nerves that another attack would end them and set her behind on her dance education came off and were eating her alive. Oftentimes she could be found in the Gryffindor common room in the comforting presence of her boyfriend, Sam Hudson. It was no surprise that Sprout had cut her club shifts back leaving Cedric and me to pick up the slack. I had to give it to the Hufflepuff seeker. It seemed like complaining about the extra work never crossed his mind. 

Fred and George both tried to pester me into helping them to scare students into buying fake druid protection amulets. It was a bold attempt with how mean they were to Curry, the salamander living with Hagrid now, and how quickly my opinion of them changed, especially George. There was definitely a market for anything that claimed to prevent getting attacked. Neville bought a smelly green onion to wear around his neck. We tried to tell him that the monster didn’t go for purebloods but it was a lost cause.

I was leaning against one of the bathroom stall door frames, in a thick deep purple sweater, and the velvet navy leggings with the copper stars and moons reading over the newest letter from Astoria feeling emotional on the ground. A small tear leaked from the corner of my eye feeling totally defeated. Harry sat cross-legged on the floor across from me and nudged the bottom of my winter booties with his tennis shoes softly. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked softly, making Ron and Hermione turn to me. I brushed the tear on my cheek away quickly and shook my head.

“Astoria won’t be able to come back for Christmas,” My lip quivered, and a few more tears oozed out thickly, “I really miss her. She was supposed to be back months ago.” 

“At least you won’t have to see your Uncle,” Ron pointed out and I nodded weakly. 

“Yeah,” I breathed trying to stop my crying with the ends of my sweater’s sleeves. 

Hermione had stopped stirring the polyjuice potion, and spoke gently, “She’s going to be okay. I’m sure they just don’t want to let her come home until they are positive she’s better.” 

“Yeah, Hermione’s right,” Harry nodded optimistically smiling at me, “You said she was tough, right?”

“Tougher than any of us,” I laughed hearing the sadness thickening my vocal cords. Ron looked like he wanted to protest my comment but quickly let it go. 

☾☾☾☾

The four of us all leaned against different things in the abandoned girl’s bathroom heaving desperately to catch our breath gasping in massive lungfuls of air. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had barely been able to steal from Snape’s storage with their dangerously chaotic plan. They had decided that I was too nervous and would have given the plan away and I was made a lookout for the main players with a backup distraction if they needed it. Hermione had volunteered to do the actual stealing because Ron and Harry were on such thin ice with the school. Draco flung puffer-fish eyes at Harry and Ron for the entire class knowing they couldn’t retaliate without Snape punishing them into their next lives. It had made the boys even jumpier with nerves. 

I had one Filibuster Firework left from the summer trip to Diagon Alley, and Harry lobbed it into Goyle’s cauldron to cause a massive explosion of potion. The chaos of the aftermath was the perfect cover for Hermione to slip in and out of Snape’s office without anyone noticing. Snape eyed our group like a hawk for the rest of the period, and we ran away as soon as we were far enough from the potion’s room toward the safety of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

“He knew it was me,” Harry told the three of us huddled in our makeshift potions lab once we caught our breath and eased our nerves, “I could tell.” 

“It’ll be ready in two weeks,” Hermione sighed happily tossing in the ingredients I was mincing up next to her using a cutting board on top Ron’s History of Magic textbook. 

“Snape can’t prove it was you,” Ron waved his hands reassuring his roommate, “What can he do?”

“Knowing Snape, something foul,” said Harry. The potion created a large bubble and the wet pop almost sounded like the universe’s way of agreeing with Harry. 

On the way back to the common room, we all tried our best to block out the aura the chamber had blanketed Hogwarts in and focus on the beautiful Christmas decorations around Hogwarts. It was just as breathtaking as last year. Hagrid and Flitwick worked together to bring massive evergreen trees into the great hall to cover in ornaments, twinkling lights, ribbons, and beautiful fairies glowing inside the tree toppers happily watching the excitement of the hall below them and occasionally stealing a snack from the tables. 

We all signed up to stay at Hogwarts over the break when Ron noticed Draco, Nott, Parkinson, Crabb, and Goyle had all signed up to stay over the break. I was the most shocked of all considering the infamous Malfoy ball had been canceled for the first time in decades. There were rumors that Narcissa had fallen ill but it was a little too convenient for my taste considering the raids on pureblood homes. Pansy would be staying as well, which made it easy to figure out who’s hair I would be stealing. I managed to pick a short black strand from her back when I gave Daphne my letter to send to Astoria a few days ago. Daphne would be staying with the French Greengrass branch, and bragged loudly about all the French wizards she would be dancing with at Yuletide celebrations. 

A pink-faced Seamus ran up to us as we approached the Great Hall almost bouncing with excitement pointing at the large parchment pinned on the wall near the massive doors, “They’re starting a Dueling Club! First meet’s tomorrow night for the second year! I wouldn’t mind dueling lessons; They might come in handy these days…” 

We all followed him up to the poster joining the crowd chattering excitedly. Ron smirked at Seamus and asked in jest, “What? You reckon Slytherin’s Monster can duel?” 

“You never know, Weasley,” Pavarti shuttered making Lavender dramatically hug her in a supportive way, “I’ll do anything that might help.” 

“No one knows,” Dean said stoically, “Colin can’t warn us after what the monster did. None of them can. The Monster made sure of it. We are all in the dark. Waiting.” 

Lavender started to blubber in an over-the-top way pulling the other’s attention to where she stood clutching Pavarti bedside a green Neville. His clammy looking fingers clutched a normal-looking stone tied to a line of twine around his neck. I’m pretty sure Fred and George sold those to scared younger students. I guess it did provide some source of comfort at the end of the day. Maybe the only thing that did. Even if it was fake.

Hermione huffed and led us into the hall for an early dinner. The vegetable and wild rice soup was calling my name. Merlin, I love soup. I’m always so cold. We trailed after her, with Ron beside me and Harry and Hermione across from us. Ron’s eyes lit up excitedly, and asked, “We should go. Might get to blast the blonde right out Malfoy’s hair.”

"Would it just be clear then?” I cocked my head at Ron who shrugged happily scooping a portion of mashed potatoes to go with his glazed ham and green beans. 

“Could be useful,” Hermione nodded delicately buttering a roll, “I’ll go.” 

“I’m in, too,” Harry piped up grabbing a portion of meat, “What about you, Estelle?” 

“Do you think…we’ll have to duel people in the other houses?” I gulped, “Maybe you guys should go without me. I’m going to humiliate myself.” 

“Have you forgotten what you did to Fred and George on Halloween?” Ron scoffed, “Think you’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah, it’s not like we have ever dueled either,” Harry shrugged, referencing Ron and Hermione who nodded in agreement. 

“Besides, we all need to learn to defend ourselves,” Hermione pursed her lips in a way that made me understand right away that I would have no say in attending. I whined lightly and twirled a strand of hair around my finger. 

☾☾☾☾

There were only a few hours before curfew fell and Jareth was nowhere to be found. I checked all his normal haunts multiple times with no avail. My fear of embarrassing myself tomorrow was the only thing that motivated me enough to walk straight up to Liza Kapoor. The bleached streaks of hair from last year were replaced with maroon and half of a shaved head with zigzag patterns and gained an eyebrow piercing. If the oversized leather jacket and dark makeup wasn’t intimidating, the angry way she was using a blue switchblade to sharpen a stick into a point screamed to leave her alone. 

“Hey, Liza,” I tentatively approached her, eyeing the knife’s forceful strokes against the stick, “Have you seen Jareth? I’ve been looking everywhere for him.” 

“No.” She grunted without looking away from the stick she was glaring at. Her lips formed an O to blow away the wood shavings, and tested the point with the pad of her pointer finger, only to shake her head and run the sleek blade along it again.

“Is everything okay? You seem…. mad,” I noted in an attempt to be friendly. She paused suddenly and glared at me. 

“No, I just don’t want little twerps annoying me and assumed if I looked angry enough no one would bother me. Looks like you missed the hint,” She snapped before adding after an awkward silence, “Obviously, you aren’t going to leave me alone unless I tell you something. He’s with that Hufflepuff girl he’s dating right now.” 

“Beatrice Thistle?” I asked. She sighed darkly trying to focus on her spear. 

“Sure. Now, scram,” Liza deadpanned but dramatically put down the knife on the stone window ledge she was lounging on and turned to me when I didn’t leave, “Why do you need him? Clearly, my evening is ruined.” 

“I need Jareth’s help. There is a Dueling Club tomorrow night and all my year is going and I don’t know any good dueling spells!” I quickly explained the entire situation before smiling up at the teenage girl hesitantly, “Lance said you’re really good at Defense, right? I’ll give you two sickles if you teach me enough so I won’t embarrass myself.” 

She scoffed with an eye roll, “I don’t need your money. I’m a pureblood too.” 

I quickly tried to think of anything enticing to tempt her into teaching me a few spells before an idea exploded in my head, “Plus, you would have to show me how the moves worked.” 

“Hmm,” She cocked her eyed eyeing me up, “Hexing a second year? Count me in.” 

So, for the next two hours, Liza happily showed off her favorite defense charms in a small courtyard. Liza had found great joy and cackled using me as an example for all the spells she knew and could show me. My entire body was bruised and sore by the time she was finished. I had grown antlers, shrunken my head, had a pumpkin for a head, sneezed sardines, grown flowers all over my body, and had my nose totally fall off and regrow. The amount of regret of asking Liza to teach me dueling was nothing compared to how much I regretted it on the way back to the dormitory. Every step felt like I was weighed down by a million pounds.

“Hey,” Liza called out in her monotone watching me wobble away sorely, “Don’t let any idiots push you around tomorrow. Destroy them.” 

“I’ll make their nose fall off if anyone tries,” I nodded ignoring the soreness of being sent through the air so many times.

☾☾☾☾ 

The next day all the second-year students were gathered in the Great Hall at eight o’clock chattering animatedly. The four long house tables were gone and replaced with one long, blue stage for dueling. The phases of the moon stretched across the length of the platform. Astoria would love it. She loved the night sky. My muscles were still sore from training with Liza so brutally but there was no way I could feel nervous after that beating. Lockhart and Snape were both watching their students waiting for the last of us to trickle in. 

Ron and Harry were chatting with Neville and Seamus when Lockhart’s voice silenced the room as he strutted across the platform in an expensive-looking robe set. The students all pressed in together tightly around the platform eager to start the club, “Gather ‘round, gather ‘round! Can everybody see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!”

“In light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Dueling Club to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves, as I myself have done on countless occasions. For full details, see my published works,” Lockhart pompously lectured us throwing his robe to a gaggle of girls fawning over him that screamed the moment the cloak was in their hands, Dean scoffed from behind me, but Lockhart motioned to an annoyed Snape coming on to the platform with a dramatic motion, “Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape. He has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration.”

Both of the men got into a dueling position, and Lockhart cooed at the crowd, “Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry. You’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear. One, two, three.”

“Expelliarmus!” Snape cast shooting a beam of light right at Lockhart’s chest catapulting him backward with a graceless scream and landing in an embarrassing heap. The snickers and gasps of concern were distributed evenly across the student body. I shared an amused look with a Ravenclaw girl next to me. 

“Do you think he’s all right?” Hermione winced at the man stumbling to get back up. 

“Who cares?” Ron laughed happily. Hermione rolled her eyes hotly ignoring the comment. Lockhart strutted across the platform toward Snape with forced ease about him. 

“An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind me saying, it was pretty obvious- ah- what you were about to do. And if I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy,” Lockhart pitifully lied to everyone. 

Snape’s face was expressionless and he drawled, “Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells, Professor.”

“An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape! Ah, Let’s have a volunteer pair!” Lockhart nodded in agreement looking around the edge of the platform stopping in front of Ron and Harry, “Hm, Potter, Weasley, how about you?”

“Weasley’s wand causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending Potter to the hospital wing in a matchbox. Might I suggest someone from my own house? Malfoy, perhaps?” Snape quickly killed the idea, and Malfoy was smugly sneering at Harry at the suggestion. Draco climbed onto the platform and stalked toward Harry who had gone up the stairs. Lockhart nodded a notion of luck to Harry, before letting the rivals come head to head with their wands drawn. 

“Wands at the ready!” Lockhart called, and both boys snapped their wands in front of their faces fiercely. 

“Scared, Potter?” Malfoy sneered. 

“You wish.” Harry scoffed confidently. They both stomped back to the end of the platform to give room between them for the duel. 

“On the count of three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent- only to disarm. We don’t want any accidents here. One, two—,“ Lockhart was a fool for thinking such passionate rivals would listen to a peaceful rule. 

Draco didn’t wait for the countdown to finish before hurling a gold flash that sent Harry flying backward violently, “Everte statium!” 

“Harry!” I cried out in worry. Crabb’s obnoxious laugh of stupidity cut through the gasps of the crowd. Ron glared at my stupid cousin. 

Throwing himself to his feet Harry cast his own spell sending Malfoy backward to land on his butt with a painful thump, “Rictusempra!” 

Snape roughly threw Draco up to his feet. The duel was too fired up by now to pay attention to Lockhart screaming, “I said disarm only!” 

“Serpensortia!” Draco yelled enraged. A terrifying snake came from the tip of Draco’s wand and hissed at Harry baring its poisonous fangs. Snape quickly sped toward the snake but Lockhart was just as quick.

"Don’t move, Potter. I’ll get rid of it for you,” Snape drawled, pulling out his wand. 

“Allow me, Professor Snape. Alarte ascendare!” Lockhart cast quickly shooting the snake into the air and back down onto the platform with a harsh thud. The snake rose quickly, and the forked tongue flickering its hisses made it clear just how angry the snake was. No one moved. Everyone was so aware that any sudden movements might set off the snake. 

“Sya- hassa- she. Sya- hasi- heth,” Harry cautiously walked toward the snake hissing and the snake quickly noticed the wizard able to communicate with it. 

Rather than slithering toward the intended target that was entrancing it, the snake set it’s beady eyes on the closest person and rose to strike seemingly in response to Harry’s influence. Justin Finch-Fletchley was eye to eye with a furious venomous snake ready to strike and fill the Hufflepuff’s veins with venom.

It turned back to Justin and hissed hotly but Harry’s parseltongue got firmer the closer he got, “Sya- hasi- heth.” 

Slowly the snake turned and hissed at Harry forgetting Justin, Harry’s eyes grew wide coming into its full attention. Snape took the small window of distraction to get rid of the snake by clearly casting, “Vipera evenesca.”

The hall was silent for a moment after the snake burnt into a coiled line of ashes. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest trying to make sense of what my friend just did. Confusion and fear seemed to be the general reactions to Harry’s power reveal. 

Justin was hyperventilating and glared at Harry enraged, “What are you playing at?” 

Ron wasted no time throwing himself up onto the platform, grabbing Harry by his robes, and more or less ripping him out of the Great Hall filled with classmates staring in horror at our best friend. Hermione and I weren’t far behind, and the hall filled with nervous whispers the second we got into the hall. Harry looked confused, and I had no idea what to say. I kept trying to say something but the words would die on my tongue every time. How could Harry be a Parselmouth? 

The common room was thankfully dead when we got back, with the rest of the house either left in shock in the Great Hall or off doing their own thing. Ron basically threw Harry into the middle of the room in his frenzied shock, with Hermione and I panting from trying to keep up behind him. 

Ron’s voice was heavy with disbelief, “You’re a Parselmouth? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I’m a what?” Harry breathed eyes went wide as possible, confused by the reaction given to him.

“You can talk to snakes! Why didn’t you tell me you could talk to an animal?” I explained not surprised by the sheer bewilderment oozing from my words. Hermione nodded in agreement while Ron just stared open-mouthed. Harry’s green eyes nervously flickered between us all. 

“I know. I mean, I accidentally set a python on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once,” He admitted before quickly defeating the statement seeing our faces of horror, “Uh, once! But, so what? I bet loads of people here can do it.” 

“No, they can’t. It’s not a very common gift, Harry. This is bad,” Hermione shook her head giving Harry the bad news. 

“What’s bad?” Harry chuckled in disagreement, “If I hadn’t told that snake not to attack Justin…”

“Oh, that’s what you said to it!” Ron breathed clearly thinking along the same lines as I did. He really seemed like he was telling it to attack Justin. 

“You were there! You heard me!” Harry argued clearly, feeling more and more misunderstood. I just shook my head unsure of which thought and feeling to focus on first. 

“I heard you speaking Parseltongue. Snake language?” Ron countered. 

“I believe you, Harry, but it really did just sound like hissing,” I agreed with Ron with a wince.

“I spoke a different language? But- I didn’t realize I- how can I speak a language without knowing I can?” Harry sputtered out.

“Maybe it’s like the druid runes for me,” I weakly suggested. Harry nodded excitedly, gesturing to me. 

Hermione just shook her head, “I don’t know, Harry, but it sounded like you were egging the snake on, or something. Harry, listen to me. There’s a reason the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent. Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth. He could talk to snakes, too.”

“Exactly! Now the whole school’s gonna think you’re his great- great great grandson, or something,” Ron squeaked distressed, rubbing his forehead thinking of what everyone was bound to say. 

Harry shook his head firmly, “But I’m not… I can’t be.” 

“He lived a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be,” Hermione shook her head softly. 

“Only Salazar’s bloodline has ever been able to talk to snakes. It seems really likely,” I said slowly. Harry’s face dropped more and more with each of our statements. This was going to be a long year.

☾☾☾☾ 

“You can’t just weed and act like your best friend didn’t try to attack my housemate with his parselmouth,” Cedric calmly broke the awkward silence we were working in a few days after the events at the first and last Dueling Club meeting.

The entire school was whispering about what happened, and how The Boy Who Lived maybe wasn’t the hero they thought he was. Even our own housemates were wary around poor Harry. Everyone thought he was the person who opened the chamber of secrets and was doing everything to stay as far away from him as possible. The only people who seemed to enjoy it was Fred and George who went out of their way to parade around Harry and announce the Heir of Slytherin was trying to get to class. I think I might have been the only one who found it funny because Harry’s eye circles got darker and darker with each night closer to winter break. My anger toward the twins was starting to lesson day by day but there was no sign of my silly crush coming back with the passion from before. There were only two days left before the castle emptied out but it felt like an eternity. 

“He didn’t tell the snake to attack Justin,” I shook my head patiently yanking a stubborn weed from the dirt. Losing my temper would only make him believe the rumors. 

“Justin won’t come out of his dormitory. His entire year is telling him to hide from Potter until the break starts. He’s a parselmouth, Vaile. Even you have to see how this looks,” Cedric was seemingly losing his patience already, “Did you even know? You should stay away from him. I know you're a pureblood but you never know. You could be next. I’m sure Margret would let you bunk with her if you are scared to sleep in the same dormitory tower as Potter. Why don't you let me ask for you?” 

“He didn’t even know. Harry is as likely to be the Heir of Slytherin as…Dumbledore!” I shook my head firmly, “Harry was trying to get the snake to not attack him. I…know how it looks but I trust him.” 

“You trust him?” Cedric shook his head flinging a weed into the nearby trash bin filled with plucked weeds, “I don’t know if that’s smart. Everyone that’s caused an issue with Potter is petrified. Look at the facts.” 

“Cedric, I trust Harry with my life,” I said without thinking and surprised myself with how honest it was, “He would never hurt anyone.” 

“You…really don’t think it’s him? You are a bit naive, Estelle,” Cedric winced, taking a minute to weed a few weeds from the section. 

“I know it’s not him. Please try and believe me,” I nodded as sincerely as possible with a fist full of weeds. I’ve entertained the thought but it never lasts long. Harry just isn’t that kind of person. He’s a good person. 

“I’ll do my best,” Cedric shook his head bewildered, yanking the last weed from the section we were assigned with a grunt, “Odds are pretty against his favor right now. Can’t deny that.” 

“No, I can’t,” I shook my head dejectedly. 

Normally I would have pulled off the dragonhide gardening gloves but the winter chill was nippy this week. It felt like a twisted winter wonderland around the castle. At least this year it wasn’t just my friend group that knew about the secret dangers plaguing the school. Regardless of the general awareness of the threats, we always seemed to be the ones that get caught up in it. Maybe next year we can relax. If the attacks stop in time. Who even knows at this point if Hogwarts will still be open by next year? 

My friends were convinced it was Draco and felt like Dobby was enough proof to condemn his trail. It just… didn't seem like him. He loved Slytherin as much as fish loved the water, and cats loved to sleep. I would have known exactly how he was related to Slytherin before I even got my letter if it was true. The Malfoy family bragged about my ancestry. Why would they hold back about this legendary secret about themselves? Unless they were planning on killing a bunch of muggle born students. 

“You know I’m just trying to look out for you right?” He threw his body into a dusty looking wooden stool, “Hufflepuffs have really been sticking together since the attack. The prefects were talking about making a buddy system but I don’t know how much good that’s going to do. Merlin,-Oh, um, sorry? I don't know how you feel about using his name like that. My...bad?”

“Oh,” I flushed embarrassed at the apology for using Merlin as a swear word, “It’s okay, Cedric. I say it too. Everyone does.” 

“I just wasn’t sure because of, you know,” He grimaced before shaking his head, and falling into a dejected sigh leaning against the long work desk beside him, “I’m a pureblood. So I don’t really have to worry but… I don’t like just sitting around and waiting for another person to get attacked. I just wish there was something I could do to help.” 

“You sound like a Gryffindor right now,” I joked leaning over the edge of the work table with a grunt trying to slide the list of tasks over to him, “We need to measure of some shredded merfins for the sixth year potions class tomorrow and check on the mandrakes. Sprout says they are preteens now.” 

“My Father always said Hufflepuffs were just as brave as Gryffindors. We just are quiet about it,” Cedric smiled eyes glassy thinking back to his home he would be returning to soon. 

I giggled at the statement, “You might be onto something.” 

“You really believe in Potter?” He returned back to the original topic. His thick brows crinkled his perfectly formed face. He was barely out of childhood and his handsomeness was already crippling to look at. I doubt he even noticed when he made me blush because of how many girls blush around him. He probably thought it was normal. 

“If you really want to help the school,” I started strongly before losing my confidence, “Don’t let these rumors about Harry keep getting crazy. It’s just letting whoever is actually doing this have a scapegoat. I know it sounds crazy but I know it’s not him. He’s one of my best friends. I’d know.” 

Cedric rose from the stool and stretched before rubbing his eye with another sigh. Suddenly he smirked and laughed to himself, “I’ll try my best with the rumors but Hufflepuff is pretty against Potter, Estelle. It’s not crazy, though. I said the same thing when I heard people saying you were helping him with your druid magic and you got into Gryffindor to corrupt Potter.” 

“What!” I squeaked, alarmed, “I don’t know anything about what’s going on!” 

“I dunno,” Cedric teased as he started putting away the freshly weeded planters and, very pitchily, sang teasingly, “You seem like a dark witch to me.” 

“Cedric!” I scoffed distressed, “Don’t say that! It’s not funny!” 

“Maybe to you,” He snickered heartily looking better than the start of the conversation, "I can't believe anyone thinks you're actually a part of this whole thing. You talked my head off for weeks about the ethics of transfigurating animals." 

"I'm still not totally convinced about all that. The books McGonagall gave me feel a little biased," I pouted using a hand broom to brush off the dirt from the tables. There was a brief pause and I, a bit thickly, asked, "You really didn't think I was involved? Even with my family being who they are?" 

"Of course not!" Cedric laughed and shrugged comically rubbing his chin in faux deep thought, "I suppose you really do get to know someone once you've spent hours mucking around in the mud together." 

"Thanks," I smiled brightly, "Promise you'll try to get your house to stop with the rumors about Harry? It's really getting to him. I don't think he's slept in days. I’m really worried about him."

Cedric sighed heavily but nodded, "I'll try, Elle, but I can't make any promises that it'll do any good."

☾☾☾☾ 

I shook my head and frowned at Cedric from across the study hours of the Great Hall. He was whispering and staring at our group with some other Hufflepuffs. Merlin’s socks! He promised me he was going to try to stop the gossip. Margret was one of them and she looked conflicted but nodded along after some guy in their year sent her a nasty look. Andrew Nickles had snuck his way to the Hufflepuff table beside his best friend, and secret crush, halfheartedly doodling something on his notes. Catching my eye, Cedric shrugged as if saying ‘What am I supposed to do?” My head shook firmly motioning to a miserable-looking Harry with my eyes. He just frowned and looked away from me to bury his nose in his potion's textbook. 

My head was throbbing once again, and my stomach was flipping around dangerously. The return of the funk was creeping higher. Hermione suggested I talk to Dumbledore about it but it wasn’t that bad. Our headmaster clearly had his hands full with students getting attacked left and right. Plus, Jasper would murder me if I had another meeting with Dumbledore. The only thing that seemed to ease the waves of nausea was tightly clutching the amulet left to me by my father.

The sounds of whispers swirled tauntingly behind Harry’s back. Each time he turned to look who was saying his name a little too loudly a hundred eyes were glaring back at him. Ron, Hermione, and I shared a tense look, as Harry sighed thickly and quickly packed his things and muttered to us before rushing from the great hall into the twilight darkened halls, “I’ll see you back in the common room.”

“Poor Harry,” Hermione frowned at her parchment, “I can’t imagine.” 

“At least he’ll get a break in a few days,” I tried to sound positive, “But if the Heir stays too…You don’t think there will be another attack during the break, right? Barely anyone but us is staying. What if—.”

Hermione cut me off quickly, “Don’t even say it. I can’t think about that right now. Not when we have to prove Harry’s innocence.” 

“Yeah. Who knew he could speak parseltongue?” Ron shuttered at the implication swearing creatively under his breath with enough colorful language that Pavarti glanced at him half-amused, half shocked.

“You don’t think it’s true do you?” Hermione bristled in a whisper careful not to draw attention to us. 

“Of course not!” Ron shook his head before hesitantly asking us, “Do you guys...?”

“No! ” I shook my head. A wave of nausea rose a little causing me to gag, the feeling tickling the back of my throat. I felt like a cat with a hairball. I swallowed a disgusting bout of bile. I should order a tin of Peppermint Ants to keep in my school bag. 

“He’s Harry,” Hermione scoffed, “He wouldn’t do something like…that.” 

“Attention! Stop working! Attention!” Professor Flitwick drew all the student’s eyes to his tiny body instantaneously twitching anxiously, “Prefects, escort your house back to your common rooms. Quickly. Your head of House will be there shortly. Now, post haste. Post haste. Don't dilly dally.” 

“Professor,” An older voice from the Ravenclaw table called out, “Was there another attack?” 

The hall went deadly silent, before Flitwick nodded, “I’m afraid there has been another attack. Return to your dormitories immediately.” 

“Who was attacked?” Another voice called out. This time it was from one of the first years in our own house. The voice of the little boy cracked from fear. I think his name was Albert Hwan. I saw him chatting with Colin Creevy, and had arranged for the Gryffindor house to make cards to put near Colin’s bed. It did make it look a lot less depressing with all the color. Dean Thomas drew a beautiful Lion poster for everyone to sign. 

“I’m afraid Nearly Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fitchly have been petrified,” Flitwick reluctantly informed the student body. The hall immediately erupted into chaos. It was Ernie Macmillan who silenced the room glaring at our little group. 

“No surprise that Potter is nowhere to be seen. What do you have to say for your friend?” Ernie snarled before turning to the rest of the hall enraged, “Potter’s a maniac! He’ll kill us all!” 

“Stuff it up yours, Macmillan,” Ron gruffly barked back.

A pompous, over the top laugh, erupted from the Ravenclaw table, and all eyes turned to a laughing Jareth standing next to Beck, who just frowned at everyone. An upperclassman Hufflepuff yelled out, “Think this is funny, do you? No surprise there. You are an Avery.” 

“How you wound my heart so, Smith,” Jareth’s amused smile slide into an icier one, “I’m simply amused that anyone’s actually stupid enough to believe the rumor that a second year is doing all this. They just finished turning beetles to buttons and you think Potter's capable of petrifying a ghost? Please. He's obviously being framed but I don't expect you to see that, Smith. You've always been thicker than a troll.”

Ron used the distraction to take charge. Jareth shot an understanding, subtle nod at me letting Beck take a turn mocking the older Hufflepuff. He gave us a chance to sneak away. Ron pulled Hermione and me to the front of the table near where Percy was trying to control his house. I shared a look with Hermione and Ron. Where was Harry anyway?


	22. Chapter Twenty-One: Christmas Polyjuice

The rush to the train to leave Hogwarts after the double attack was a stampede and nearly everyone left that could. Even Pansy changed her mind and went home willing to spend the holidays away from her precious Draco in exchange for her safety. It was only Harry, Hermione, Ron, and his family, Draco, Nott, Crabb, and Goyle left in the castle with a handful of others brave enough to stay. 

There was one other Gryffindor that stayed. It was Talia Bridges from the year between us and Fred and George. Apparently, her family had to take a last-minute trip to America because her grandmother fell down and broke her hip. The injury was only a big deal because they were muggles. She was a fun addition to our group while we all enjoyed the rare run over the entire Gryffindor Tower. The common room looked rather large with the rest of the house gone.

The common room radio had never been better controlled. There was a perfect mixture of normal music and holiday music. It was played just loud enough to be heard over the intense games of exploding snap, and the only person it bothered was Percy, but he spent most of his time in the library studying for his exams. Talia wanted to be a radio show host one day and used her time consuming all kinds of music. 

With so few people in the tower, the good velvet armchairs near the fire were always available to thaw out after a bout of chilly winter fun. For the first time in a while, the four of us eased into the lazy routine and let go of the intense stress that constantly sunk its claws into us. The only thing pressuring about the break was making sure the potion didn’t spoil in the very last days of brewing. 

Harry was actually able to catch up on sleep, and the dark circles quickly went away after a few nights of relief from the constant stares. The twins and Ron made sure to make Harry laugh as much as possible while there was a brief blip in scrutiny. Even Draco barely bothered us because of how easy the empty castle made it to avoid each other. 

We had our fun. We played games in the warm cozy common room and occasionally ventured outside to build snowmen and have snowball wars. Hagrid was extremely happy to have someone to eat his mince pies, which nearly broke my front tooth from the hardness of it. We all just stuffed them in our pockets and let the happy giant man believe we enjoyed his festive holiday cooking. I had considered breaking out my ice skates but Hagrid warned me the menfolk might not take too kindly to that. Maybe, he suggested, Dumbledore can freeze you, kids, a pond to skate on. 

I could tell I wasn’t the only one tripping up over the missing traditions of pureblood society from the restless way Draco was shuffling around with minions flanking him. For him, I’m sure the absence of glamourous balls, gourmet feasts, and dotting parents bringing him to the finest performances of The Nutcracker felt more impossible to ignore than an infected wound. Hogwarts was quaint and full of laughter but there wasn’t much glamour to be found for the pureblood heir in the castle. Maybe Draco’s karma finally is catching up to him through the Ministry raids ruining his Christmas. 

The night of Christmas Eve, when it was just Harry and I left in the common room, we let ourselves entertain what it might have been like to grow up with our parents in a soft back and forth. For the first Christmas Eve in my life, I didn’t have to cry over it alone in my bed. Hogwarts was too soothing for grief and Harry understood exactly how it felt. It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment we unspokenly agreed to become the siblings Voldemort stole from us. Maybe it was during one of the late night conversations last year about what our lives could have been last year. It didn't really matter the moment because far as we were concerned we were siblings. I'm sure our parents felt relief that we found such comfort in each other if they truly were watching over us. 

The two orphans fell asleep on the sofa leaned up against each other listening to the crackle of the fire wrapped in our warm robes and soft pajamas. Crinkly candy wrappers were scattered around our bodies. His light blue robe and thick flannel pajamas made my own velvet mauve robe with floral white details over the light pink pajama set look even more girly than I thought were possible. I wasn’t sure what time it was when Fred and George burst into the Common Room snickering loudly and decided to mess with our peaceful sleep by tickling our noses with feathers until we groggily stumbled to our dorm beds leaving the teasing baby talk and cooing behind us. 

Hermione woke me up the next morning with abrasive excitement. Bernie was in her arms at the end of my bed getting ready to pounce on me if I tried to fall back asleep. Through bleary, sleep clouded vision I gave her a disappointed once over, “Why did you get dressed? It’s Christmas, 'Mione. You’re supposed to stay in pajamas all morning.” 

“I’ll have you know I’ve been up for nearly an hour now. One of us had to check on the potion. It needed more lacewings,” She responded with a slight puff of her chest. 

Even if she wasn’t wearing pajamas like I was planning on wearing for as long as possible, she wore a cute Christmas themed sweater over a bright red wool dress, with white tights and black mary-jane shoes. With a loud yawn, I rose to a sitting position and was struck with a sudden bolt of energy at the sight of neatly wrapped presents on the foot of each of our beds. 

“Let’s open presents then we can go wake up the boys,” Hermione suggested but I was already halfway through tearing off the wrapping paper of the gift closest to me. 

It was a little black box with silver stud earrings in the shape of swans. Hermione cooed at them and took her turn to open a leather-bound collection of muggle children stories that she loved. We went back and forth until there was a pile of ripped wrapping paper on the floor between our beds. Hagrid carved Hermione and I both wooden animal like last year. This year I got a little cat that looked a lot like Bernard and Hermione got a wide-eyed owl. I was happy Ron wasn’t here to see the countless expensive gifts I had gotten. I looked as big of a brat as Draco Malfoy. 

We collected the gifts for our friends, and after I neatly tied a large white bow into the back of my hair, we sped up the boy’s stairs and Hermione let out a happy scream shooting the boys straight up dazed by our brilliant friend, “Wake up!” 

“Hermione? Estelle?” Ron stammered sleepily, rubbing his eyes, “You’re not supposed to be in here-.” 

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” said Hermione tossing Ron her gift to him, “I’ve been up for nearly an hour adding more lacewings to the potion. It’s ready.” 

Harry was suddenly very awake, “Are you sure?” 

“Positive. If we’re going to do it, I say it should be tonight,” Hermione nodded curtly, shuffling out my way so I could dump the wrapped boxes onto one of the Gryffindor boy’s beds that went home for the break. I threw myself onto the bed bouncing on the mattress slightly. Judging from the singed curtains, I could only assume it was Seamus' bed. 

“But it’s Christmas,” I pouted, patting the bed beside me to encourage Bernie to nestle into my side rather than stare at me from the ground. 

“Exactly,” Hermione pointed at me, “Malfoy wouldn’t expect it.” 

“He does love Christmas,” I mumbled.

“Don’t ruin Christmas for me, Elle,” Ron shuttered pulling on his brown robe, with a few patterned patches here and there covering holes, and opened his first gift. 

It was a large box of chocolate frogs with a note wishing him luck for the last two cards he needed. Harry’s first gift was an envelope asking him to find out if he could stay over the summer break too, and a flimsy wooden toothpick from The Dursleys. Hermione and I happily watched the boys open their gifts until we could all exchange our presents and grab some breakfast in the Common Room. They delivered the breakfast straight to the Common Rooms on Christmas morning to mimic the coziness you might be missing away from home. 

My robe was wrapped tightly around me, and the tiny pink dots over white fabric clashed with the floral pattern of my pajamas but it was too drafty in the tower to not wear the robe. Daphne had picked out our pajamas like she always did for Christmas Eve. It was really shocking that she even bothered from France but it brought me a little sense of home. The hem of the blouse, the end of the sleeves, and the bottom of the pants all flared out into neat pleats like a peplum style. The blouse buttoned all the way up neatly. Thin coral piping lined the start of the pleated areas and the edge of the Peter Pan collar. It reminded me so much of Daphne and our Christmas traditions that a small pang of homesickness echoed in my chest. 

Thankfully we started exchanging gifts shooing me away from any possibility of negative feelings. I had shown Harry how to order stuff via owl, and he was extremely excited to give us our gifts. I don’t think he realized how expensive they were until Ron’s chattery mouth fell silent cradling the quaffle signed by the Chudley Cannons. He got Hermione a beautiful writing set with little orange stars all over it. His laughter filled the room when I tackled him in thanks for a signed copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Newt Scamander was my hero. 

Ron’s gifts were much less expensive but I loved them all the same. He got Harry some quidditch trading cards, Hermione was gifted a pot of rainbow ink, and I got a case of sugar quills. Hermione’s gifts fell in the middle between Ron and Harry on the cost. Ron got a scarf with little Quidditch hoops on the ends, and Harry got a luxury eagle-feather quill. It made them laugh that they thought to give each other the same thing. Hermione gave me color changing nail polish based on mood, and a beret embroidered with owls. 

I hummed cheerfully to myself as I handed out each of the neatly wrapped boxes to my patiently waiting friends. They were told to open them together. My feet were unable to stay still from excitement once they all started pulling off the paper. It was funny to watch. Hermione took the time to pull off the bow first, while Ron roughly tore it to shreds. Harry was slower, not sure how to act after so many years of never getting presents.

“It’s friendship bracelets,” I explained once they had all seen the silver chain bracelet with a small plate with ‘RHEH’ engraved in the metal next to a lion that roared every few seconds. I blushed at the silence for a moment second-guessing my decision. My wrist already had mine underneath the sleeve of my sleepwear. 

“I love them!” Hermione happily announced, already closing the clasp on hers. 

“You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to,” I blushed at the boys but Harry smiled brightly at me.

“I think they're brilliant!” He shook his head. 

“Yeah, I mean I guess I’ll wear it,” Ron joked in faux-reluctance before smirking quietly to himself, “Wicked.” 

We joined Ginny, Fred, George, Talia, and Percy in the common room for the delicious breakfast arranged for us. The sound of Christmas carols and the crackling fire made the coziness of the Gryffindor Christmas unmeasurable in my mind. It was a nice change from the normal formal events and stuffy feasts. Fred and George messed with Percy, who was more than ready to slip back into the library to study and forced his Weasley sweater onto his lanky torso scolding him for being so ungrateful. They looked so soft. I couldn’t help but feel jealous of Harry and the Weasleys for such a priceless gift. 

After three rounds of exploding snap, George suggested we go outside and take advantage of the freshly fallen snow. It was a White Christmas after all. Those who were still in their pajamas changed quickly into something warmer. The green velvet dress with the dolly white color and a bright red ribbon around the neck was covered by my favorite winter robes. They were a thick dark green shade, with watercolor flowers on the lining of the hood and pockets, and buttoned up with thin golden buttons. I made sure to wear all the accessories that would keep me warm like the magically warming tights, gloves, and beret, as well as my snow boots. 

It was a good call because the Gryffindor’s spent the entire afternoon playing around in the fluffy, fresh snow. Hagrid even joined us briefly and assisted us in building a snowman the size of him, until Fred knocked it over by tacking George into it. The body of the snowman caved in on the brothers burying them in deep snow. But they just popped their heads out laughing with frost nipped rosy cheeks. We all returned to the common room cold, wet, and gasping for breath to warm up near the fire right before the Christmas feast began. 

The Great Hall looked breathtaking. It put the expensive decorations of all the Christmas events in the pureblood echelon to shame. I think it was the intention behind the over the top decorations that made the difference. Purebloods did it to show off but Hogwarts did it to make sure the holiday season was celebrated for the students and staff. The massive trees were covered in frost and beautiful antique ornaments, and streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossed over the ceiling. Hermione listened to me ramble about how Druids used to hold mistletoe as something sacred until my voice trailed off noticing all the house tables were gone.

One long table sat in the middle with two Ravenclaw students and a Hufflepuff talking to the Professors next to them. Nott, Crabb, Malfoy, and Goyle were sitting in a tight box at the end far from the professors leaving room for the Gryffindors between. I was surprised to see Millicent Bulstrode at the very end of the table looking uncomfortable. I guess that’s the price of being half-blooded in Slytherin. Everyone sat quickly leaving the only empty spots next to Goyle and Malfoy across from him. Fred gave a dark look to Goyle when he reluctantly took the empty seat leaving me with the one next to Draco. His light eyes rolled dramatically and paused in his conversation with Nott to cast an irritable glance when I sat down. They were discussing their gifts. 

Dumbledore, now that everyone had arrived, festively led our small group in Christmas carols. Hagrid and the twins were the loudest singers, while Draco and the others didn’t bother singing a single line annoyed to even be attending such a feast. Draco even stepped on my foot a few times, smiling happily when it made me yelp. 

But with a clap, the table overflowed with delicacies and perfectly prepared dishes. There were fat, juicy turkeys, piles of roast oozing flavor, golden roasted potatoes; silver boats of gravy and cranberry sauce. Along with that were beautiful displays of baked goods like gingerbread men and peppermint pies. 

Large stacks of wizard crackers laid every few plates entertaining the evening. They went off like canons, engulfing us with colored smoke for a few seconds or a shower of sparks. Sometimes white mice would weasel out of the tubes before disappearing a few seconds later with a little twinkle. Dumbledore swapped his wizard’s hat for a colorful cowboy hat laughing with Sprout and Flitwick over the jokes inside the crackers. After popping a few with Fred, who now had a few Grow Your Own Warts on his nose, and Hermione, donning a festive elf hat, I turned to Draco who was scowling at the rest of the table’s merriment. I adjusted the oversized witch’s hat on my head in an obnoxious yellow shade. His face twisted into a scowl when he noticed the cracker being held out to him. 

“Have you gone mad?” Draco scoffed at me. His friends laughed meanly at me stuffing their faces with roast and potatoes. 

“Stop being a stick in the mud and have fun for once,” I rolled my eyes having too much fun to care about the stupid house rivalry for one meal, “You used to love these. We used to beg your mother to get these, remember?” 

“Yeah, when I was a kid,” He didn’t budge. 

“You still are a kid,” I laughed drunk on the festivities and wiggled the cracker playfully, “You know you want to.” 

Draco paused, eyeing the cracker before shaking his head, “I’d rather die.” 

“That can be arranged,” Fred and George’s leering tone made the both of us look over where they were glaring at Draco. 

“Surely you two Weasleys aren’t stupid enough to mess with a Malfoy,” Draco scoffed rolling his eyes. They locked eyes and glared for a moment before Ginny shouted for her brother’s attention. When they looked away Draco looked back at the cracker being offered to him and my cheeky smile.

“You know you want to. It’s just one cracker,” I egged him on. He grumbled to himself before grabbing the other end of the cracker and yanking hard. 

The area around us exploded in a cloud of shimmering white smoke, and when it cleared Draco had a snot green eyepatch on and a package of luminous balloons in his hand. We smiled for a second at each other before Draco quickly ripped the eyepatch off and turned to Nott so much that the entire back of his head faced the rest of the table.

Draco stalked away soon after with a tight look across his face leaving Nott, Crabb, and Goyle to finish up their meals. We enjoyed the feast for a little longer while Fred and George messed with an unaware Percy about the fact his prefect badge was bewitched to say pinhead. Ron joined in with his snickering brothers, while Hagrid talked to Harry, Hermione, and I from the other end of the table in a loud drunken voice. It was so nice. I wanted to remember every second of this Christmas.

Like a book dropped from the table, Hermione sprung up and ushered the boys and me out of the hall to carry out our sneaky plan. Accidentally stumbling into Nott, I picked a strand of mousy brown hair to put into my potion. Nott had no clue what was really happening when he insulted me twitchily. Once we were in the hall, Hermione checked around to make sure no one was around before looking at the boys. I held up the tiny brown hair and she handed me a vile to put it into for safekeeping. 

“We just need a bit of who you’re changing into,” Hermione spoke to Harry and Ron. The redhead made a repulsed face at the reminder. 

“Crabbe and Goyle,” Harry responded echoing the plan. 

“He tells them everything,” I reaffirmed to the others who nodded at me appreciating my knowledge of the boy for the very first time, "If Draco told anyone about the plan it's them. I mean, Malfoy. Not Draco. Sorry." 

“We also need to make sure that the real Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle can’t burst in on us while we’re interrogating Malfoy,” Hermione whispered checking over Ron’s shoulder at the massive wooden doors of the Great Hall. The way she said it was so harmless it sounded as normal as bringing an extra quill to class just in case. 

“How?” Ron frowned, voicing my own doubts. 

“I’ve got it all worked out,” Hermione smiled confidently pulling three chocolate pastries from her robe pocket, “Filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. Simple, but powerful. Now, once they’re asleep hide them in the broomstick cupboard and pull out a few of their hairs, and put on their uniforms.”

“This feels risky?” I frowned but only Ron seemed to agree with me. 

Ron blinked and shook his head at Hermione frowning slightly, “Whose hair are you ripping out then?”

Hermione smirked and pulled out a glass vile similar to the one she gave me for my own hair, “I’ve already got mine. Millicent Bulstrode– Slytherin. I got this off her robes. I’m going to go check on the Polyjuice Potion.” 

“Make sure that Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle find these,” Hermione didn’t notice me going to give my input about her choice before pressing the pastries firmly into Harry’s hands and speeding off down the hall quickly hidden by the darkness of winter’s twilight consuming her dark-robed form. Ron and Harry shared a wild look with me before we quickly started to discuss exactly how to pull this off. 

The three of us were crouching behind a bronze statue eyeing the trio laughing lazily as they strutted back to their common room. The two larger boys' arms were filled with sweets taken from the table, while Nott rattled off about a new broom he’d gotten for Christmas. Beside me, Ron raised his taped wand and cleared his throat ready to carry out the plan. 

Quickly pulling down Ron’s wand Harry shook his head politely suggesting, “Ron, maybe I should do it?”

Glancing at his broken wand, Ron nodded dejectedly, “Yeah. Right.”

“Wingardium leviosa. Here they come,” Harry cast the pastries to float down the hall directly toward the thundering path of the purebloods. I blinked at them not believe how stupid they were to nearly run up to the floating sweets. Crabb and Goyle weren’t surprising but I guess Nott just wanted to be greedy. He snatched the pastry from the air eyeing around shiftily in hopes no one would take it back. 

“Ha, cool,” Crabb, my idiot cousin, slurred grabbing the cupcake with a mouth full of food. 

Goyle followed suit. The three boys nodded at each other and quickly shoved the food into their mouths like animals. My hand covered my mouth in horror. It felt like watching animals in the wild from our spot behind the statue. The three of us shared pleased looks at the impossibly perfect yet simple plan. A small smile grew on my face when they all in tune crashed to the ground knocked out by the drugged pastry. 

“How thick could you get?” Ron shook his head in disbelief.

“This isn’t even that bad for them,” I frowned in pity at the simple-minded purebloods, “Daphne would mess with them sometimes. It was almost sad to watch how easy it was for her to confuse them sometimes.” 

“Come on. Let’s get ‘em,” Harry reminded Ron and me about our time-sensitive mission.

Quickly we used the levitating spell to shove them into a broom closet, and all I could think about was how happy I was that Hermione was smart enough to steal their uniform robes so we didn’t have to take it from their unconscious bodies. That would be traumatizing. The boys grabbed their hair and we nearly ran to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom where Hermione was already changed into the Slytherin robes. The cauldron had been moved into one of the sinks, with four glass goblets lined up along the sink. The tiny glass tubes of pureblood hair were held up to Hermione’s questioning glance and she nodded mentally checking off that part of the plan. 

Wordlessly, we quickly changed into the boy’s robes that were too big for all of us. I forced myself to avoid my reflection wearing the Slytherin tie that I had dreamed about for so many years. Already painful thoughts about the Slytherin house were forcing into my head. This wasn’t going to be easy. We gathered nearby as she carefully used a ladle to pour the lumpy, grey mixture into the empty goblets. It sounded disgusting and thick.

“We’ll have exactly one hour before we change back into ourselves,” Hermione reminded us, passing each of us a goblet of potion with a similar face of disgusting reluctance, "Add the hairs.”

One by one we added the hairs that dissolved with a hiss, and Ron gagged beside me, “Ugh. Essence of Crabbe.”

“Maybe it won’t be too bad,” I weakly shrugged. The others gave me looks of disbelief. I rolled my eyes, "Would it kill you to be positive sometimes?" 

"I'm positive...," Ron gagged sniffing his goblet, "This is going to taste worse than dragon dung." 

“Cheers,” Hermione frowned, raising her glass, meeting ours with a dull click. We raised our cups to our mouths and drank deeply. It tasted like moldy sludge with the essence of sewage water. The taste was overwhelming. Quickly all my senses were consumed by the taste of Nott and my stomach twisted in a warning. The brow of my hairline bled a cold sweat. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick!” Ron gagged and dropped his glass cobbler to the ground with a shatter running into a nearby stall.

I followed quickly into the one beside it leaning over the toilet seat gagging pathetically. Hermione’s footsteps rushed into another stall across from us. I felt my body stretch and expand upward. The once oversized robes felt like they were shrinking to my growing body. My hair curled into my scalp while lightening to a mousy brown shade. Rising to a fully standing position, I was shocked by the new view from such a tall body. The door of the stall squeaked when I opened it and I saw the familiar body of Goyle hunched over the sink nearby the shattered glass goblets oozing the leftover potion onto the tile. Ron’s door opened and Crabbe was in his place. We both looked horrified. 

“Harry?” Ron’s voice seemed so twisted to come out of my cousin.

“Ron!” Harry as Goyle smiled at him brilliantly. Harry’s glasses barely fit on his face. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron swore looking at us. 

“We still sound like ourselves. You need to sound more like Crabbe,” Harry pointed out and I nodded. 

“Stupid blood-traitor,” I mimicked Nott perfectly and the boy’s eyes grew wide in shock. 

“Uh, bloody hell,” Ron tried again sounding more like Crabbe. Harry and I nodded with wicked grins.

“Excellent,” Harry smirked happily sounding like Goyle. I frowned before knocking on the only closed door. 

“Hermione?” I asked, sounding like myself. Ron gave me a weird look hearing my feminine voice come out of Nott. 

“I- I don’t think I’m going. You go on without me!” Hermione’s voice was frenzied with panic. 

“Are you sure?” I tried opening the door but it was locked, “I can stay. Are you okay?” 

“Just go!” She hissed harshly, “You’re wasting time.” 

“Come on,” Harry obeyed Hermione nodding to Ron and myself leading us down to the dungeons. 

The closer we got to the deepest part of the castle the fewer decorations were put up and the damper it became. Even the art slowly became darker and darker. The Slytherins were perfectly at home among the doom and gloom. My heart pounded in my chest.

This was the last way I’d ever expect to see the Slytherin dormitory that I’d heard about so often as a child. This is the life that was planned for me. Before everything got twisted upside down this was my birthright. I was silent as Ron and Harry commented on each other’s imitation. I grew up around these people. It’s only a matter of time before Draco knows something was up. 

“I think the Slytherin common room this way,” Harry frowned, pulling us down another hallway. 

“Okay,” Ron nodded just as clueless as us two. As we bickered about how to get into the dormitory, a figure came up behind us. 

It was Percy Weasley glaring suspiciously at the young Slytherin trio. His lips thinned and said, “Excuse me.” 

“What are you doing d-,” Ron’s voice came out of Crabbe but with Harry’s sharp elbow in the side he quickly corrected himself, “uh, I mean… What are you doing down here?”

“I happen to be a school prefect. You, on the other hand, have no business wandering the corridors at this time of night. What are your names again?” Percy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“Uhh,” Ron blanked. 

“I’m…,” Harry was also frozen. Clearly, it was up to me now.

“How dare you not know who we are,” I crinkled my nose in a sneer perfectly embodying Nott to the point Harry and Ron turned and gasped at me. 

“Crabbe! Goyle! Nott! Where have you three been? Pigging out in the Great Hall all this time?” Draco’s voice echoed in the empty hall as he strutted up to us before stopping in front of Harry narrowing his eyes, “Why are you wearing glasses?” 

I cursed to myself forgetting to tell Harry to take them off. Harry ripped them off his face and stuffed them in his robe pocket stammering to come up with something. 

Finally, he settled on something and explained lamely, “Reading.”

“Reading?” Draco blinked staring at Harry like he’d grown another head. I don’t think I’d ever seen Goyle read anything.

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded in conformation. 

“I didn’t know you could read,” Draco frowned, and I laughed at the insult effortlessly but made sure to laugh as Nott. It was hard to forget how witty Draco was. My childhood best friend twitched his eyebrows in curious surprise before sneering at Percy, “And what are you doing down here, Weasley?” 

“Mind your attitude, Malfoy,” Percy hissed sharply. 

Malfoy just raised his eyebrows tauntingly before sauntering off around Percy leaving us to trail behind him as his lackeys would normally. It felt weird falling back into my old role so easily. I didn’t even have to think about it. It just felt natural. 

“That Peter Weasley-,” Draco started as we walked through the halls. 

“Percy,” Ron corrected. I shook my head at him subtly. We wouldn’t have cared to remember that. Let alone Crabbe.

“Whatever,” Draco rolled his eyes, “I’ve noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he’s up to. He thinks he’s going to catch the Slytherin’s heir single-handed.” 

Draco gave a short laugh, with me joining in elbowing the others lightly to follow suit. They just exchanged excited looks. These fools were going to get us caught! Crabbe and Goyle laughed at anything Draco said. We paused in front of a bare, damp wall and Draco looked over at me. 

“What’s the password again?” He frowned. 

“I-,” I started but Draco cut me off quickly clearly not actually wanting me to help him. 

“Oh yeah. Pureblood!” He smirked and instantly the wall revealed an ornate stone door carved with snakes and ivy. 

Malfoy wasted no time strutting into the common room and my breath caught in my throat at the sight of it. It was just as dark, luxurious, and imposing in its desire to be exclusive as the members that belonged to the house. The massive room reminded me of Malfoy Manor. Dark and opulent. It was everything and beyond how my family and family friends had described it. 

It was a long, arched ceiling underground room with polished granite walls in the darkest black shade, emerald green lamps were hung from silver chains that were polished so perfectly they nearly sparkled in the light of that massive diamond chandelier overhead. There was a fire crackling as the only trace of warmth in an elaborately carved mantelpiece, with several black leather chairs and sofas scattered around it with imported green rugs covering the marble flooring. The large arched windows made it very clear exactly where the common room was.

It was under the lake overlooking the merfolk’s castle casting the entire room in an eerie water filtered light. There were desks and fancy tapestries and portraits scattered about. Draco flung himself into a large leather sofa in front of the fire, and I followed suit on the other side. Harry and Ron were busy staring at the common room like two fish out of water. I wanted to throw something at them. Even I, with all the thoughts about finally being in the Slytherin Commons, had been able to keep the act up. 

“Well, sit down,” Draco deadpanned giving me a judgmental expression and once they were seated Draco started speaking again, “You’d never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave. They’re an embarrassment to the wizarding world. All of them. What’s wrong with you, Crabbe?”

Ron’s angry expression at the insult of his family and the clenching of his fist was quickly giving the sneaky plan away, but Ron lied quickly clutching his stomach, “Ahem, Stomachache.” 

Draco’s lips twitched downward but brushed it off quickly, “You know, I’m surprised that the Daily Prophet hasn’t done a report on all these attacks. I suppose Dumbledore is trying to hush it all up. Father always said Dumbledore was the worst thing that ever happened to this place. I mean, look at how quickly he brainwashed Vaile. You'd hardly realize she's one of us anymore.” 

It felt like a punch in the gut but Draco didn’t get a chance to notice my expression when Harry shouted impulsively, “You’re wrong!”

There was a moment of silence with Draco staring at the three of us at a loss for words, but angrily glared at Goyle for daring to disagree with him, “What? You think there’s someone here who’s worse than Dumbledore?” 

Harry realized his mistake too late and struggled on how to respond. Draco sneered at his friend rising out of his seat, and I gave a pointed look to Harry, “Well? Do you?” 

“Harry Potter?” Harry suggested. I breathed a sigh of relief before snickering in a very Nott manner. Draco smirked letting the anger slide from him. He turned to me and nodded amused.

“Good one, Goyle. You’re absolutely right,” Draco agreed, repulsed to the point he nearly spat with each word, “Saint Potter. And people actually think that he’s the Heir of Slytherin!” 

Harry didn’t miss a beat and asked, “But then you must have some idea who’s behind it all?”

“Yes. Draco,” I pressed in the twitchy way Nott spoke secretly hoping Draco would confirm my theory he had nothing to do with this, “Tell us. You always know.” 

“You know I don’t Goyle. I told you yesterday. How many times do I have to tell you? Is this yours?” Draco frowned at us sitting on a nearby desk and held up a small green box wrapped with a bow rattling it near his ear and slipping it into his robes. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at how predictable he could be. Draco continued in a hushed voice a moment later making us lean in anticipating, “But my father did say this: It’s been fifty years since the Chamber was opened. He wouldn’t tell me who opened it-- only that they were expelled. The last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So, it’s only a matter of time before one of them is killed this time. As for me, I hope it’s Granger. I can’t believe Vaile even bothers defending that mudblood. She always did like her little pets.” 

Ron and Harry both were struggling to conceal their rage at the twisted wish. They looked about ready to pummel him into the plush fireplace. Especially with how Ron threw himself up and nearly decked him until Harry jumped up and held him back. Draco’s eyes grew wide at the response and cried in annoyance, “What’s the matter with you two? You’re acting very…odd.” 

“It’s his stomach ache,” Harry covered for him and muttered something to Ron. Looking for a distraction, I had a sudden idea.

“What’s in the gift?” I snickered, eyeing his robe pocket. 

Draco smirked back at me, glanced around, and pulled the gift out unwrapping it quickly. With a heavy sigh, Draco lost interest and tossed it to me. It was a black metal wristwatch with skulls as the hands of the clock. From nearby, I heard Ron whisper to Harry that his scar was coming back. 

“Hair,” Harry gasped back. I looked over, while Draco was rifling through another present on the desk, and bit my lip to stop myself from gasping. Crabbe’s brown hair was quickly fading to a violent red. Using the reflective, silver platter on the coffee table in front of me, I saw Nott’s brown eyes fading to a bright blue and his hair darkening and thickening. Without a word, we all quickly fled the common room leaving Draco behind on the desk midway through unwrapping a gift. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” Draco screamed at us but we were already out the door.

☾☾☾☾

“That was close!” Ron gasped desperately for air because of the way we rushed to the bathroom. I had tripped a few times over the long legs of Nott’s uniform pants tripping me up. The bathroom was silent. Where was Hermione?

“Hermione!” I called out breathlessly. I couldn’t wait to tell her I was right about The Malfoys. Of course, there was more than one Dobby in the pureblood community! Why was I even worried? I would have overheard something this summer if they were plotting something like this. 

“Hermione, come out. We’ve got loads to tell you!” Harry announced our return. There was a small beat of silence but sniffles came from behind the locked door she hid behind earlier. Ron, Harry, and I gathered around the door. 

“Go away!” She ordered a voice thick with tears. Before I had a chance to respond to the unexpected order, Moaning Myrtle floated out of the stall looking wickedly pleased. 

“Ahh! Wait till you see,” She giggled floating to stand behind our group, “It’s awful!” 

“Hermione?” I softly asked and heard the click of the stall unlocking. I pushed the door open with a slow creak, “What’s wrong?”

From the shadows of the stall, Hermione faced the wall hiding in the darkness before slowly turning around, “Do you remember me telling you that the Polyjuice Potion was only for human transformations? It was cat’s hair I plucked off Millicent Bulstrode’s robes. Look at my face.” 

And look at her face we did. Her once peachy skin was now a blanket of long dark brown hair with dark stripes, and large cat ears peeked out from under her normally wild curls. The feline green eyes shined in the darkness, and her tail twitched nervously behind her. My mouth was covered by my hand in pure unfiltered shock. 

“Look at your tail!” Ron grinned amused making Hermione tear up. I gathered her in a hug. A furry face buried itself into my neck muffling her stressed sobs. Harry looked alarmed but Ron was fully amused by the transformation. 

“Don’t worry, Mione,” I rubbed her back, “We’ll fix this.” 

“How?” She cried into my shoulder. 

“Pomfry knows how to fix everything!” Harry responded quickly. 

“No way! No one can know about the potion!” Hermione pulled away giving me another look at her cat body. 

“She won’t ask. Fred and George have done loads of stupid stuff before and she didn’t ask,” Ron added but Hermione’s lip quivered. 

“I don’t want anyone seeing me like this. They are going to think I’m a freak!” She sobbed crying into my shoulder again. 

“Luckily, Harry has a cloak of invisibility,” I soothed nodding my head at Harry who quickly rushed to the dorms with Ron, “It’s going to be okay. One day we will laugh about this.” 

“This isn’t funny!” She protested. 

“Not now,” I agreed, “But maybe in a few years.” 


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two: The Diary

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Diary

Hermione was still in the hospital wing when I attempted the light druid spell again and was able to spend the day with her when I was being treated for the nosebleed that wouldn’t stop and the pounding migraine. But I was able to leave within a few hours, and she was still there hidden behind privacy walls when everyone returned to school. People thought she was attacked and tried their best to catch a glimpse of her in the hospital wing but, even if she was mostly back to her normal self minus a few hairballs and her bright green feline eyes, Pomfrey was too smart to let Hermione get exposed and humiliated. There were a lot of rumors about her circulating the school. One included Harry and I sacrificing her to the monster for fun because we didn’t like her Christmas gift. Jareth really enjoyed that one. 

In January after the night of the full moon, It was nice to spend the day with her again while I got another gushing nose bleed, in both nostrils this time, and a pounding headache treated after failing the druid spell again. This time I managed a flicker of light for a split second before blood gushed from my nose like a bursted pipe. Harry and Ron weren’t sure they saw the light but I’m pretty sure I know what I saw. Maybe. Okay, I wasn’t really sure at all what I saw. Hermione said she was going to look into it when she got out. 

The only thing keeping her sane was the daily homework delivery from Harry, Ron, and I. Ron tried to convince her to take a break saying if he had whiskers he wouldn’t work on school but Hermione refused. But what did he expect? Ron’s concern was quickly ruined when he found a golden get well soon card from Lockhart under her pillow. He only stopped teasing her when the subject of new leads about the heir was brought up. We didn’t have any. Draco was our only hope but at least they knew what I knew all along finally. I didn’t rub it in Hermione’s face that if they just trusted me she wouldn’t have been a furry and in the hospital wing at all. It was too cruel, especially with the way she was violently haking up so many hairballs everyday. 

We were on the way back to the common room after the study period in the Great Hall. Ron turned to Harry and me and asked, “Have you spoken to Hermione today?” 

“She should be out of the hospital in a few days when she stops coughing up fur balls,” Harry joked, rising the stairs slowly until we all paused at the rush of water drizzling down the steps from the direction of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, “What’s this?” 

“It looks like it’s coming from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” I frowned and we all bolted toward the bathroom. Slushing through the water in my uniform shoes and trying not to cringe at how dirty it looked, we rushed through the halls to quell our curiosity. I wonder how long we could go without running toward something mysterious at this school. 

“Yuck!” Ron wrinkled his nose at the sewage water underfoot. My socks were soaked.

“Looks like Moaning Myrtle’s flooded the bathroom,” Harry agreed, rushing up to the bathroom door and yanking it open quickly. Inside all the sinks were overflowing creating a pool of reflection on the tiled floor. In the reflection, you could see Moaning Myrtle weeping on the large window ledge in front of the circular stained glass window. 

“Huh– huh. Come to throw something else at me?” She squeaked at us rubbing her eyes weeping. 

“Why would I throw something at you?” Harry shook his head denying the accusation. She enjoyed the attention and slowly floated down to us while whimpering. 

“Don’t ask me! Here I am minding my own business, and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me,” She moaned, turning up the drama more and more to keep our attention. I felt bad for her because never got to live her life. There was so much she would never get to experience. It doesn't even seem like the other ghosts like her. 

“That’s very rude,” I shook my head. Moaning Myrtle nodded in agreement sharply. 

“But, it can’t hurt if someone throws something at you. I mean, it’ll just go right through you,” Ron frowned. I sighed next to him. He was asking for it again. 

“Sure! Let’s all throw books at Myrtle because she can’t feel it!” She screamed in Ron’s face before throwing a punch at Ron going right through him in each area she mentioned, “Ten points if you get through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head!”

Ron looked just as pale as Myrtle, and Harry rescued his friend by distracting the ghost, “But, who threw it at you, anyway?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t see them. I was just sitting in the U-bend thinking about death - aah - and it fell through the top of my head,” She retold the events wistfully unaware or uncaring at how creepy she sounded before floating off into the wall with ghostly whining echoing around the chamber. Slowly Harry walked up to an old leather-bound diary and picked it up. 

“What does it say?” I asked curiously peering over his shoulder using my tiptoes to gain height. Harry flipped through the pages quickly, frowning. 

“Nothing. It’s empty.” 

☾☾☾☾

Unfortunately, Hermione was released from the hospital the day after my thirteenth birthday and wasn’t able to celebrate it with me. Birthdays were not my favorite growing up because with all the attention on me, the teasing only increased for the day. Luckily, it wasn’t a big deal due to the fact we had double potions with Snape that day. With little room for celebration with the overwhelming amount of homework he assigned during class. I wore the mood color changing nail varnish Hermione had given me and judging by the way it stayed a cheery buttercup yellow the entire day felt like a great sign it was a good birthday- all things considered.

Cedric and Margret worked together to surprise me with a cupcake during the meeting that day, and Jareth, Lance, and Andrew even joined in when the Gryffindors sang me a happy birthday. It was pretty nice. Astoria mailed me a nice letter, with another painting of Ginger and Bernie as my birthday present. 

When Hermione returned to the common room the following day, Harry immediately filled her in on everything about T.M. Riddle’s diary, and the story of how we found it. She was intrigued and instantly excited to solve another mystery. 

“Ooh, it might have hidden powers,” said Hermione looking through it hoping to see some sort of clue.

“I’m glad it doesn’t,” I shuttered, “Uncle Jasper has a lot of scary books stored in his personal library. He told me once that there was a book that took away all of your senses if you opened it and looked at the pages even for a second.”

“If it has any, it’s hiding them very well,” said Ron doubtfully, “Maybe it’s shy. I don’t know why you don’t chuck it, Harry.” 

“I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it,” said Harry, “I wouldn’t mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either.” 

“I can’t believe detention with Filch actually paid off. Who knew polishing all those awards was worthwhile, Ron?” I chuckled happily to a grumpy Ron. It was Ron who recognized the name on the diary after spending so long polishing the award he was given. It was the only thing we had to go on about the mysterious diary. 

“Could have been anything. Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.S or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle. That probably did everyone a favor,” shrugged Ron.

“Ron,” I frowned, shaking my head scandalized at the cruel statement Ron made about poor Myrtle. Ron merely rolled his eyes and shrugged without an ounce of remorse for so cruelly mocking such a tragic death. Even if she was...a lot to handle, she didn’t deserve to die so early. Ron returned his focus to feeding Scabbers a potato chip on his lap. 

“What?” Harry asked Hermione who had a completive look on her face. 

“Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn’t it?” Hermione prompted, “That’s what Malfoy said.” 

“Yeah,” Ron said slowly. He hissed sharply wagging his finger after Scabbers bit it trying to get the last crumb of the potato chip.

“And this diary is fifty years old,” Hermione pointed out the dates written in the diary to the three of us. 

“So?” 

“Oh, Ron, wake up!” Hermione snapped, “We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything. Where the chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it. The person who’s behind the attacks this time wouldn’t want that lying around, would they?”

“That’s a brilliant theory, Hermione,” Ron nodded, “With just one tiny little flaw. There’s nothing written in the diary.” 

“It could be a spell,” I suggested.

“Or invisible ink!” Hermione whispered, pulling out her wand to point at the diary, “Aparecium!” 

Nothing happened. Hermione pulled a giant red eraser from her bag and explained it exposed hidden things but no matter how hard she rubbed on the pages; nothing appeared. She looked determined to find something in the book. Both Harry and her were desperate to find a clue about the Chamber of Secrets to break the quickly cooling trail of the heir. 

“I’m telling you. There is nothing to find in there,” Ron shook his head, “Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn’t be bothered to fill it in.” 

“Then why is it showing up all of a sudden? After fifty years?” I frowned, reaching behind my head to tighten my red ribbon. Ron just shrugged, not bothering to guess. Harry simply grabbed the diary off the table and tucked it away in his bag safely near his feet. 

☾☾☾☾

Harry was obsessed with the dairy. Frequently I’d catch him running his hands along the empty pages perplexed. With every turn of the page, he looked disappointed and would try again hoping eventually something would appear on those blank, aged pages with enough tries. The name T.M. Riddle sounded familiar to him he told me but he had no idea how. There would be nothing connecting him to a student from so long ago. Especially with his muggle background. He even made us return to the award room multiple times to look at the plaque with his name on it. 

But on the bright side, the mood inside the castle was quickly growing more and more cheery with the thawing of winter, and without any new attacks. It had been weeks since Justin and Sir Nick had been petrified, and the mandrakes were entering the moody, sensitive stage of their teenage years. It was certainly putting the Herbology Club through a lot with their drama and secret parties. They even had acne, which was a good indicator of their level of maturity. We would have to repot them soon. It wouldn’t be long now until they were fully matured and we could cure the victims of the Slytherin heir. 

Ernie Macmillan was still convinced it was Harry behind it all. Overall with each day people were moving past their fear of Harry after the Dueling Club scene. It was nice to see Harry be able to relax, somewhat considering his obsession with the diary, and live a relatively normal school year for a little while. 

Lockhart tried his best to convince everyone that it was he who stopped the attacks. The sheer intimidation of his presence was enough for the heir to slow down apparently. It was with this spirit that he decided the school needed a morale booster and on February 14th, the school came face to face with his bold plans.

When we arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast, we all froze in a row standing in the doorway. The walls were covered in large pink flowers with heart-shaped confetti falling from the sky enchanted ceiling. Hermione and I were overcome with giggles at the sight of the pink hall much to the boy’s repulsion. Lockhart was wearing bright pink robes and waved for the hall to silence with a wink at random groups of swooning girls. Ron grumbled into the spoonful of his oatmeal as the hall got silent. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouted enthusiastically posing slightly while the other professors watched from the sides exchanging tense looks, “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all- and it doesn’t end here!” 

With the clap of his hands, a dozen dwarves wearing costume angel wings holding little golden harps marched into the hall. Lockhart looked overly pleased with his plan, “My friendly, card-carrying cupids! They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a love potion? And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly dog!”

Professor Flitwick looked humiliated burying his pink face in his hands, while Snape looked just about ready to kill the next person who dared look in his direction. The hall erupted in the sound of hurried conversations and giggles. Hermione and I shared a happy look and whispered to each other behind our hands. All the romance novels I’ve read came to mind and I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone would send me a nice gift. The boys looked overwhelmed and were fast to pull us into the hall away from the madness.

“Please don’t tell me you were one of the forty-six!” Ron grimaced at Hermione walking away from the pink covered Great Hall.

Hermione quickly changed the subject to today’s lessons. I loved the pink personally. It was one of my favorite colors. I loved how soft and sweet it could be. I wish I had time to run back to the dormitory and swap the red ribbon in my hair for a pink one. It wasn’t a crime to be festive like Ron clearly thought. Today could be fun! My thoughts were halted by a thuggish looking dwarf ran by us with an armful of letters. We had to jump out of his way to avoid getting totally knocked over. 

The entire day the dwarves would burst violently into the classrooms making everyone jump the first few times but quickly it got old. Now whenever one entered the room we all just paused and waited for it to be over. Many girls got more and more dejected with each letter that wasn’t addressed to them. I was definitely one of them. I tried not to be jealous at the large stack of letters for Daphne, who hated the situation finding it immature and cliche, and Lavender, who seemed to be thriving. I read over the letters Lavender let me look at trying not to look totally green. Ron caught on and tried to make fun of me to cheer me up. He didn’t really get it and just made me feel embarrassed for caring at all. Was it so wrong to want someone to like you?

We were on the way to Charms when one of the dwarves ran up to Harry pushing people to the ground with a gruff approach, “Oi! You! Potter!” 

Harry tried his best to escape, especially with the wide eyes of first years traveling in one of their safety pods next to our group. The dwarf chased him down nailing people’s shins to get them out of his way. Ginny Weasley looked redder than normal watching the dwarf tackle Harry to the ground despite his best efforts. Harry managed to get free and rise to his feet. 

“I’ve got a musical message to deliver to Harry Potter in person,” The dwarf demanded twanging his golden harp out of tune hurting my ears. I was professionally trained in a piano but anyone could see the dwarf had no idea what to do with the harp. 

“Not here,” Harry hissed trying to speed away. 

“Stay still!” The dwarf grunted grabbing Harry’s school bag and yanking him backward.

The bag ripped open in an explosion of parchment, quills, ink pots, and loose Bertie Bott’s beans. We all tried to help Harry gather his things that had been wildly spread out from one point in the hallway to the other. The hallway was jammed preventing the flow of students from both sides making a large audience when the dwarf began to prepare to sing. 

“What’s going on here?” came the familiar cold drawl of Draco. Harry and the rest of our movements sped up recognizing the voice knowing Malfoy would never let Harry live this down for the rest of the year. 

“What’s all this commotion?” said another familiar voice but this one was stern and stiff. It was Percy Weasley who joined the situation. Harry had enough and gave up on the bag and tried to run. It was useless because the dwarf simply threw his body at his knees and sent him sailing onto the stone floor. 

“Right. Here is your singing valentine,” The dwarf cleared its voice and began to sing, “His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, his hair as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, He’s really divine, The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”

I don’t think I’d ever seen Harry so red since I’d met him last year. He looked redder than the tie around his neck. Everyone’s laughter echoed around us. Harry gave a valiant effort to laugh along but it was weak. Percy tried to thin out the crowd but some people were leaning against the walls because they were laughing with such might. Malfoy was laughing the hardest and had tears in his eyes from the overwhelming amusement. He reached down and grabbed the diary letting Crabb and Goyle peer at it. Oh no, this wasn’t going to end well; was it? Harry stomped over to Malfoy, the pink slowly leaving his cheeks, and tried to get it back but Malfoy slipped away from him. 

“Wonder what Potter’s written in this?” smirked Malfoy, not bothering to look at the name and dates on the diary. The hall went chillingly silent waiting to hear Malfoy expose Harry’s alleged diary. 

“Hand it over, Malfoy,” Percy ordered sternly. Draco glared at him and laughed lightly. Percy would have to take that diary by force if he didn’t want Draco looking at it. It was like Draco struck gold. 

“When I’ve had a look,” He smiled, waving the book tauntingly at Harry. 

“As a school prefect-,” Percy tried to end this peaceful but Harry was over it and his overprotectiveness of the diary took over. 

“Expelliarmus!” He shouted pointing his wand at Draco, and the diary flew out of the blond boy’s hands into the air. Jumping up, Ron caught it easily using his already tall height to his advantage. Harry and Ron looked smug at the quick turn of events. Draco was furious, his amusement ended quicker than it started. 

“Harry!” Percy gasped, “No magic in the corridors. I’ll have to report this, you know!” 

Harry simply glanced at Percy without care. Draco was furious and as he passed us and the first years he sneered at little Ginny, “I don’t think Potter liked your valentine much!” 

Like a bucket of water dumped over her, she buried her head in her hands and fled the hallway with one of her housemates running to catch up with her. Ron almost hexed Draco for mocking his sister but Hermione was quick to prevent another day of burping up slugs. She would thank him later. 

We made it to Charms class quickly and tried to forget about the entire thing for Harry’s sake. Ron was transfixed with the toxic purple bubbles blossoming out the end of his wand and ignored Harry trying to point something out about the diary. Hermione and I were similarly disinterested in the diary because Flitwick was teaching a fun charm called Herbivicus. It was a charm that made plants bloom rapidly. It made potions ingredients useless but was perfect for aesthetic flower needs. He passed out seeds of roses and we spent the class charming them to blossom before our very eyes. Pavarti put one of the smaller roses in her bun. I think it’s one of my new favorite spells. 

On the way back to the common room, Harry was sourly stomping past the whispered giggles that started when he passed by groups of students hearing about the event earlier. He even had to clutch his school back in his arms with the bottom and strap busted. The bag and everything in it was stained with dried black ink from the smashed ink pots. Ron tried a few times to make casual conversation with him but quickly gave up after getting nothing but snappy replies. Ron, Hermione, and I were lightly chatting, debating when the snow would fully melt when another, more sluggish and slightly older, dwarf ran up to our little group in the empty hallway. 

“Not again,” Harry shuttered, getting ready to bolt. 

“You! Vaile!” The dwarf marched up to me, “Gotcha a secret admirer letter. Don’t try and get me to tell you who it is. Strict orders not to say. Here. Take it! I ain’t got all day!” 

“Thank you,” I mumbled, taking the carefully folded note in shock. 

“Yeah, yeah,” The dwarf mumbled, walking right between Hermione and pushing us out of his way.

The other’s eyes were staring at me waiting for me to open the letter. I could feel the way my face turned scarlet just looking at the smooth parchment. I broke the hot pink wax seal that was on all the secret admirer letters that had been delivered today and recognized the passage immediately. 

“It’s Shakespeare,” I noted to the others. Hermione cooed in excitement looking over my shoulder at the neatly written note. 

“More flowers I noted, yet I none could see, but sweet or color it had stolen from thee,” She read deepening my blush. Overwhelmed with bashfulness, I quickly tucked the note into my pocket and let my hand hold it tightly in between the fabric. 

“Who’s it from?” Ron blinked half interested. 

“Honestly, Ron,” Hermione scowled, “Weren’t you listening? It’s a secret.” 

“Whatever, Hermione,” Ron shook his head as we continued to the common room, “Who do you think it is?” 

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” I shrugged and added with a frown, “It might be a joke.” 

“At least they didn’t humiliate you,” Harry hissed grumpily.

"I'll be old news in a few days, Harry," Ron attempted to comfort Harry but, Harry just frowned sourly at the diary. So Ron turned his attention to me, "What's that mean anyway?" 

I flushed and rolled my eyes focusing on my shoes, "It means that flowers aren't as pretty or sweet as the subject as the poem." 

"Basically," Hermione beamed at me tugging the paper from my hand to look at excitedly again, "Someone thinks Estelle is beautiful." 

"Lucky you," Harry mumbled, "I got compared to a toad." 

Hermione, Ron and I shared a wince. Nothing was going to turn this day around for harry after everything. Everyone was talking about what happened but luckily, Harry was just one of many similar stories from today. It didn’t stop Fred and George from dramatically performing the song in the common room the moment they saw the poor boy. Harry fled to the privacy of his bed very quickly. 

Ron sighed and simply walked over to where Dean and Neville were chatting with a second year called Dawson. The Common Room was lively from the excitement of the day. Apparently, there had been some drama among the upper years. Hermione turned to me and started pulling me up the stairs. 

"C'mon," Her grin curled across her face looking back at me as we climbed the steps, "Let's figure out who sent that note." 

"Honestly, it was probably someone trying to mess with me," I pouted in front of our door with Pavarti and Lavander's giggles leaking out from behind, "Can we just forget about it?" 

Hermione seemed to pick up on my insecurity right away and her smile dropped, "There are other people at Hogwarts than those bullies you grew up with, you know." 

"Yes," I agreed heavily, "But they are the loudest. Please?" 

"Fine," Hermione sighed, "Only because you asked."


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three: Frozen Friends

As a group, we had decided that as long as there weren't any other attacks that we wouldn’t go to Hagrid. Besides, with the jokes about Harry’s valentine and the mandrakes nearly fully matured thanks to the Herbology Club, the air around Hogwarts was at ease. My time was rarely spent thinking about the earlier, horrifying months of the year and instead were consumed with tutoring sessions with Jareth, attempting to keep the rambunctious partying teenage Mandrakes under control with the rest of the Herbology Club, and mastering the druid moonlight spell.

Three full moons had passed, and all traces of winter were gone from the grounds when I finally brought it up to Jareth, Liza, and Lance who decided to join Hermione and I preparing for final exams in the library one day. I explained the failure to produce the light, with Hermione interjecting occasionally to bring up the negative effects it was having on my body like the heavy nose bleeds and splitting headaches, to the three Ravenclaws who were consumed with their curiosity.

Lance, who knew the library better than even Hermione, quickly left and buzzed around the isle pulling tombs from the shelves seemingly at random. With a loud thud, he dropped seven books onto the table about Druids and we all grabbed one. A few hours must have passed in silent research before Hermione quietly gasped. 

“What? You find something?” Liza deadpanned not moving her finger from the line she was reading. 

“I don’t know. Possibly. It says here, ‘A druid’s glainnaider serves many purposes but one such purpose is the assistance of dulling and smothering magical power while young, training druids are still unable to fully control their gifts consciously,” Hermione recited in a clear voice. 

“I know,” I frowned, bringing my hand to the pendant swinging around my neck against the red peasant blouse with the gold stars from Margret. I tiled my head unsure of the point she was trying to make, “Dumbledore gave me it to stop the dreams. I haven’t taken it off since.” 

“Smart thinking,” Lance nodded, clearly understanding Hermione’s theory.

“So you’re thinking,” Jareth joined in, “It’ll work if she takes it off?” 

“Maybe,” Hermione shrugged, “It wouldn’t hurt to try. The full moon is only three nights away.” 

“It might hurt to try,” Liza drawled slamming her boot onto the table lazily eyeing the area to make sure Pince didn’t catch her and crossed her arms with a large, pleased smirk, “We should do it anyway.” 

“Thursday night,” Jareth leaned in whispering to the rest of us, “Midnight. Let us in your common room and we can try it. We’ll wait outside near the portrait.” 

“Our common room?” I blinked at the pureblood boy and closest friend outside my housemates, “How do you know where our common room is?” 

“We’ve been in all the common rooms,” Lance sighed, sounding totally drained from his friend’s antics. The rumors were plentiful about Jareth and his friends' rambunctious partying and sneaking around. Liza cackled to herself lightly. 

“Hell yeah, we have,” Liza high-fived Jareth. 

Hermione shifted in her seat uncomfortably, “But what if we get caught? Someone could see you and tell the professors.” 

“As long as Percy Weasley doesn’t see us,” Jareth shrugged, running a hand through his dark curly hair, “It’s fine. He does prefect duties on Thursday nights anyway.” 

“How do you even know that?” I asked unsurprised.

“Because I know everything,” Jareth smiled charmingly in an almost Draco-like arrogance. I guess it was just pureblood arrogance really. 

The three days before the full moon passed by quickly, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and I waited anxiously for a knock on the portrait door around midnight. The common room was mostly empty besides a handful of people. Fred, George, and Lee were chatting with Talia Bridges, Lucy Sao, and Alicia Spinnet near the fire occasionally sharing a roar of laughter. Talia and Alicia seemed to be flirting from the way they both kept blushing and giggling. Seamus told me Talia took Alicia on a date to Hogsmede on the last outing. They’ve been blushy around each other since. I wonder if I’ll ever go on a Hogsmeade date. 

Lucy Seo was struggling to keep focus and kept getting Lee to toss darts onto a dartboard transfigured from a notebook. I’m pretty sure they’re dating actually. Fred and George seemed to be tagging along with the two teenage couples but clearly couldn’t have cared less by the way they were joking around with everyone. 

Hermione jumped when the knock came from the portrait hole at exactly the ding of midnight from the large clock hanging on the way above the entrance. I quickly slipped into the crawl space and pushed open the door. It wasn’t just Jareth, Lance, and Liza as originally planned in the library. Beck and Andrew had tagged along as well. Great, more people to watch me embarrass myself. 

“Well?” Beck raised his hand snappily gesturing to the dark empty stairs of the castle with his many rings reflecting light, “Do you want us to get caught, or are you just going to stare at us blocking the door?” 

“Right. I’m sorry,” I shook my head snapping out of my surprise, and returned into the common room. 

The group of third and fourth-year Gryffindors stared at me in curiosity. Beck stumbled out of the portrait hole in his normal ripped jeans, ring covered hands, and leather jacket waving at the group by the fire before settling next to Ron, who looked intimidated by the older boy. Liza followed him in a similarly dressed outfit but decided to perch on the window ledge next to our small sitting area. Andrew was third and chatted with the other group animatedly. Mostly he talked with Talia about cameras, which I was surprised to learn that Andrew was also a photographer.

Jareth was the only one that didn’t stumble coming into the room, and gracefully strutted taking the spot I was sitting in before. Unlike the Weasleys or Liza, you could tell by looking at Jareth’s traditional wizarding clothing that he was a pureblood just like I was. High society pureblood. Lance was the last one to appear through the portrait door and was greeted by his vibrant sister.

“Lance!” Lucy giggled, skipping over to him somewhat and hugged him tightly. He broke out of her hug and fixed his grey sweater unnecessarily.

Seeing the siblings next to each other was amusing because of how different they were. They were like night and day. Lucy got all the color and excitement of the gene pool. Her eyes were lined with bright blue eyeliner, her hair had rainbow butterfly clips holding a braid in place, and her uniform robe was covered in colorful pins and badges. He was simply wearing silver glasses, a grey sweater, and jeans. They chatted for a second, and he greeted Lee reluctantly. Clearly he wasn’t on board with his little sister dating but she also clearly didn’t need his approval with the way she boldly kissed Lee’s cheek.

Eventually, Andrew and Lance joined their friends and greeted Harry, Ron and Hermione. We all were crowded around a small circular coffee table with three armchairs and a loveseat. It was a tight squeeze but we made it work with Andrew sitting on the loveseat’s arm, Hermione kneeling on the floor, and Liza on the window ledge. Everyone looked at me expectantly. 

Sighing, I slowly pulled the silver chain of the glainnaider over my neck and made a small pool of silver metal on the table. The hairs on my neck rose without the comforting soothing magic of the necklace, and I suddenly felt overwhelmingly aware of the magical energy bouncing around the stone walls of the common room. I had forgotten about the way magic frayed my nerves at Hogwarts. 

“The moon reaches the peak in a minute,” Lance softly told the group looking at a moon chart we used in Astronomy frequently and his wristwatch. Finally that class didn’t feel so useless. 

“So, what now?” Ron spoke up, picking up the necklace excitedly, “It should work this time? Without this thing?” 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Liza shrugged looking at Ron, who avoided looking her in the eyes. 

“Alright, the moon’s at its peak,” Lance declared after a moment of silence and brought his hand to his lips to bite his nails, “So, uh, do the thing.” 

Noticing my discomfort about the audience, Jareth used his expensive-looking velvet loafer to nudge my chair, “Just close your eyes and... feel the energy from the moon and try your best to focus before you say the incantation. Druid stuff.” 

“You know,” Beck smirked amused, rubbing his nose, “We could always sneak out to the Quidditch Pitch and dance under the moonlight to really connect to the moon.” 

“Ha,” Liza responded, “Can you imagine Flitwick’s face if we got caught?” 

“Probably be jealous he wasn’t invited,” Jareth laughed, imagining the sight. 

“He does love music,” Andrew rubbed his chin playfully, “Let’s do it.” 

“Guys,” Lance paused in biting his nails, “Why don’t we try the normal way before we break more rules?” 

“Fair,” Jareth shrugged, twirling his wand in between his fingers before nudging me with his loafer again, “We’ll be quiet. Just close your eyes and focus.” 

“I’ll try,” I breathed shakily, and closed my eyes slowly. 

At first, I felt really silly. All the people gathered around me and the group near the fire, trying their best not to look nosy, had their eyes locked on what I was doing. It was really hard to ignore all the attention when it felt like bugs were crawling over my skin. Nearly two years of stumbling after Harry into the spotlight hadn’t made it any less unnerving.

Slowly I relaxed, remembering the poem from the book. 'O, whey-face moon. Mine own soul beguil'd through the m're sight of thy pearlescence. Illuminate the path lac'd in shadows i might not but treadeth, lull with thy soft caress, guideth me f'rev'rm're. On thee day of thy completion, the lonely night hencef'rth beest driven hence by thy silv'r beams to cradle me from darkness. Till mine own final twilight in thy s'renity, thy incandescence shalt swaddle me as if 't be true i wast thy babe.' My mouth silently moved to recite it to myself in a loop. I imagined the power of the moon sprinkling its energy into my soul. My heart started to pick up quicker and quicker until it felt like a drum pounding in my chest. 

“Leoht,” I breathed, feeling energy rise in my palm.

I opened my eyes and my heart stopped at the sight of light illuminating the veins in my hands. Webs of luminescence pulsed faintly under the thin skin of my hands. But the moment my eyes laid sight on the flickering veins it disappeared. With a huff, I threw my hands into my palms already feeling a headache. The pain was less intense than when I normally attempted the spell. Still, the fatigue and physical protest of my body against the spell was rising.

“Hey, dude,” Andrew nodded to me, “Don’t give up yet. Stay positive.”

“Ugh,” Beck groaned at the words of his friend before shrugging, “He’s right but, God, you sound like such a cheese, Andrew” 

“Ignore them,” Jareth waved a quieting hand at his friends that we're about to bicker nodding to me, “Try again.” 

“Maybe try keeping your eyes closed longer,” Harry suggested.

I nodded and tried to return back to the place of meditation. Once I was there I let my body get comfortable in the energy of it. The push and pull of the lunar energy. I imagined myself to be like the ocean tide mimicking the ever-changing faces of the moon. The people around me faded away, and I slowly gathered the courage to try again. Without opening my eyes, I softly said the incantation. 

“Leoht,” I breathed out letting the warmth gather in my palm again feeling the pound of a headache grown in tune with the tingling warmth spreading to every centimeter of my hands, “Leoht.” 

Suddenly, my hands felt hot. Almost fiery hot, but in an unbearably pleasurable way. My eyes slowly cracked open to see a ghostly orb suspended between my two palms shining a decent amount of light into the common room. The playful banter of the other group had halted transfixed by the light in my hand. My smile spread across my face not waiting to let the feeling of the light go despite the pounding of my head. According to the runes, I could do this anytime I want now. Full moon or not. 

“Estelle!” Hermione gasped breaking my concentration to look at the expression of horror on her face.

Before I had the chance to understand why she could possibly be upset at a time like this, the ball of light vanished and the pounding of the headache was no longer muffled and smothered. The only thing I had the chance to do before everything went black was groan and feel the stream of blood flowing from my nose and left eye. 

☾☾☾☾

When I woke again, I was laying in one of the sterile hospital wing beds with the family pendant hanging around my neck once more. The cool metal felt like it was humming against my skin. Bernard was softly licking my hair laying on the part of the pillow that my head didn’t take up and hung over the side due to his large size. 

There were some colorful get well soon cards on the side table that I couldn’t wait to start looking at. Each card would be put in my memory box next to the secret admirer note from Valentine's day. Every Gryffindor in my year had made one. Even Seamus, who I rarely spoke to compared to my other housemates, made a messy sketch of Bernard riding a skateboard. Lavender’s card was covered in so much glitter that little shimmering specs covered the entire side table and my sheets. 

Realizing I was awake, Madam Pomfrey explained that it was now the last day of Easter break rather than the day before it started because I had been out cold for nearly a week. She tried to get me to tell her exactly how I ended up with magical fatigue to such a dangerous level of intensity but gave up eventually realizing I wasn’t going to budge from my false clueless act. She gave me a few potions to take every morning and night to rebuild my magical stamina before releasing me to return to the common room. The dark green metallic liquid swirled around the bottom of the potions bottle from the jostling of my footsteps.

“Estelle! You’re awake!” Ron cried with a bright smile when I walked into the common room. 

Harry and Hermione turned around so quickly they could have broken their necks. They waved me over.I was stopped by a few curious housemates to ask if I actually was trying old druid magic, but I disappointed them quickly when they learned it was a spell similar to the boring Lumos spell. 

After a tight squeeze from Hermione, I settled into a fluffy armchair beside Harry, Ron, and Hermione who started chattering about how they spent their break with I was regaining my strength. Hermione shared some muggle candy her parents sent for the Easter holiday with me. It really was strange how still muggle candy was. The gummy bears didn’t even wiggle a little. Bernard was curled on my skirt vibrating from the intensity of his purrs.

Mostly they just thought about what electives they were going to sign up to take in our third year. A whole new world of magical education was about to be opened up to us. It was a no-brainer that I would be signing up for Care of Magical Creatures considering it was the number one class I’d been wanting to take since I’d gotten my letter. If they thought I was a teacher’s pet for Sprout, I’m not sure how they’ll think of the way I’ll act in Professor Kettleburn’s Care of Magical Creatures lessons. Actually, as long as I can remember I’ve been looking forward to that class. 

“It could affect our whole future,” Hermione reminded Harry and Ron to take the sign up sheet seriously. 

“I just want to give up Potions,” said Harry. 

“We can’t,” Ron reminded him gloomily, “We keep all our old subjects, or I’d’ve ditched Defense Against The Dark Arts.”

“No more transfiguration,” I sighed wistfully, fiddling with my oak wand, “Can you imagine? What a beautiful world that would be.”

“But those classes are very important!” Hermione said in shock.

“Not the way Lockhart teaches it,” said Ron with horror, “I haven’t learned anything from him except not to set pixies loose.” 

Neville joined our group’s deliberation about the electives and told us he sent letters to everyone in his entire family asking about what he should take next year only to end up more confused from the wide variety of answers. Everyone told him something different. Eventually, he started asking the older students as well. Dean Thomas appalled Hermione when he simply closed his eyes and pointed his wand at the list and checked off the classes that it landed on. 

I waited to talk to Jareth at our next tutoring session. He warned me not to sign up for Ancient Runes, even if I could read Druid runes. It wouldn’t be Druid runes I’d be learning anyway. Eventually, like Harry and Ron, I chose Care of Magical creatures but ignored Jareth and applied to Ancient Runes and felt pretty confident about it when we turned in the forms on the first day back from break. Plus, Margaret and Cedric both took Ancient Runes and said they could always help me if I was confused. 

The boys said even if we were lousy at the new subject that we could figure it out together. Well, until I reminded them about the barn of magical creatures I used to have before the Sorting Hat disgraced me and the unlikelihood I would struggle in Care of Magical Creatures. I almost signed up for Muggle Studies but that would have gone over terribly with Uncle Jasper. It might be the thing that pushed him enough to burn me from the family tree. Possibly more so than being a Gryffindor. Hermione listened to no one, not even Percy, and signed up for every single class. She’s going to go crazy next year. Just wait. 

Everyone was anticipating the upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. Cedric, the seeker for the Hufflepuff team, was more than happy to trash talk me during Herbology club meetings. Margaret had resumed meeting with us on a regular basis now that her nerves about the attacks had calmed down. It was so nice with another girl around again, even if Cedric was so fun to work with. 

It really felt like everything was returning to normal. I even made a bet with Cedric that I would personally scrub the algae off the windows in Greenhouse Two if Hufflepuffs managed to beat Gryffindor. Even if I wasn’t super into the sport, Harry was extremely talented. 

Hermione, Ron, and I had been walking to the pitch when Hermione suddenly froze and sped off toward the library, “I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!” 

“What about the match?” I called out to her but she was already too far to hear me and I shrugged at Ron, “I suppose she can just catch up.” 

“Mental that one,” Ron muttered before continuing his lecture about his personal ranking of the professional Quidditch teams in the UK, “Those Ballycastle Bats better watch out this year. Sure, they’ve got Hickledown but the Canons aren’t going to lose to them again this year. We’ve got a new seeker. I can feel it, Estelle. I can feel it in my bones. The Canons are going to win the cup this year. Don’t laugh! It’s true. I know it is.” 

“I’m sure it is, Ron. Actually, I read an article in the Prophet a while back that the Montrose Magpies’ new couch has absolutely transformed the team. A lot of people think they might be in the finals this year,” I noted to Ron stifling my giggles. Ron frowned at me and I rolled my eyes, “Okay, Cedric told me about it last Tuesday during HHC. I’ve actually never read the sports section of the Prophet but I think it would be great if the Holyhead Harpies won the cup this year. They’re my favorite team.” 

Ron scoffed as we arrived at the pitch, and started climbing the wooden stairs, “You just like them because it's an all-girls team.” 

“Absolutely,” I nodded happily, “Plus, they have the cutest outfits. ” 

“They aren’t outfits! Its uniforms,” Ron corrected, shaking his head, “I’ve never met someone who’s less into quidditch than you, Elle.” 

“I like making signs and the chants are fun too,” I pouted, and held up my carefully sketched poster with an immaturely drawn Harry zooming around to Ron, “I don’t think I got Harry’s body right. His arms are different lengths.” 

“Bloody hell, that's Harry?” Ron laughed and led the way through the crowded Gryffindor stands to find a spot near the front.

I started feeling sick for the first time in months. Everyone was too close to me. It was so overstimulating. My eyes were watering and there was that familiar twisting of my gut and the lightness of my head. Maybe it was a bad omen. Maybe I shouldn’t have bet against Cedric. 

“This match has been canceled,” The familiar voice of Dumbledore echoed over the stadium sharply smothering the loud excitement of the stadium, “Please return to your dormitories immediately.” 

Letting the poster in my hands hang down limply to my side, I shared a terrified glance with Ron. The faculty only sent us to the dormitories after an attack. My lip quivered, and I pulled my wand out of my holster to press close to my chest, “Ron! What if there was another attack? Hermione was alone. A-and muggleborn! She could have-.” 

“Estelle,” Ron took my poster from my shaky hands and tried his best to sound like he believed what he was saying, “Hermione’s fine. She’s probably already back at the common room waiting for us. Let's find Harry.”

We merged into the slow file out of the stadium filled with the complaints and disappointments of the student body. It was easier for a lot of people to focus on the canceled game than the possibility that the attacks were starting again after so long. Seamus and Pavarti were discussing why the match was canceled while Ron and Dean made sure an extremely grey looking Neville didn’t faint and fall down the stairs. 

Lavender, uncharacteristically somber, turned to me as we neared the bottom flights of steps, “You… think there was another attack?” 

“I don’t know,” I glanced over to see her worried expression, “If it was…”

“Let’s not worry about it,” Lavender shook her head shaking away her fear, “Until we know for sure. It’s been months. Lockhart said the attacks were over b-because the heir was too intimidated by his skill.” 

“Ugh, maybe that git was attacked this time. Do us all a favor,” Ron gagged under his breath overhearing Lavender’s comment from behind me. My poster was folded up messily and tucked under his arm. His bright red hair flopped lightly from the movement of him shaking his head at me with an eye roll. 

“I don’t know if Lockhart’s enough anymore, Lav,” Parvati glanced behind her and frowned at her friend, “No one knows what’s going on. Not even Dumbledore. What if they close the school?”

“Hogwarts has been around for centuries,” I tightened my grip on my wand numbly and delicately stepped down the stairs, “This will get sorted out soon. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t know if there was another attack. There might be another reason the match was canceled.” 

“Yeah, Elle, I bet it was canceled because the giant squid decided to fight the whomping willow,” Seamus snapped sarcastically, “Of course, there was another attack! What else could it be, eh?” 

“What if someone died this time?” Pavarti bit her lip weakly. 

“Hey!” Dean snapped at us pointedly looking at a near translucent Neville quivering beside him, “Let’s just get to the common room and find out what’s happening. Maybe they figured out where the Chamber of Secrets is. Don’t assume the worst!” 

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, McGonagall rushed up to Ron and I with Harry at her side. Seeing the normally stoic McGonagall consumed with worry was like a punch to the gut. Our entire group went deadly silent watching our head of house lead Harry, Ron and I toward the Castle. 

We followed her hasty stride up toward the castle, and through the halls toward the hospital wing. When I realized where we were headed dread started to pick away at my frail brave front but none of us dared to ask what was going on. McGonagall gave us a heavy look and slowly pushed the doors for the hospital wing open. 

“I warn you this could be a wee bit of a shock,” McGonagall warned but it was already too late.

“Hermione!” Ron breathed in horror but was nearly entirely muffled by my scream. 

The cry was shrill and pained echoing in the empty wing like a terrible melody. With Pomfrey standing back out of view it was impossible to not recognize the wild head of curls fanning out across a stark white pillowcase. On a nearby bed, Penelope Clearwater was in a similar state of petrification. Her and Percy Weasley were seen together a lot. 

My knees felt weak but I flung myself beside her and grasped her own cold, frozen hand that was extended away from her body with my own quivering fingers. The clamminess of my skin against the stone-like skin made it so much more gut-wrenching. The sight of her blurred from the thick heavy tears pooling against my eyelids. She was my best friend. She didn’t deserve this. Not Hermione. No. No. Not her.

“She was found near the Library. Along with this,” McGonagall explained before presenting a simple-looking silver hand mirror to Harry, “Does it mean anything to either of you?”

Flipping the mirror in his hands, Harry numbly shook his head, “No.” 

“I will escort you three back to Gryffindor Tower,” McGonagall announced. My head snapped away from Hermione with enough force to knock the gathering tears down onto my cheeks and my hair to fan around me. 

“What?” I shook my head, “Please let us stay. We can’t just leave her here alone.” 

“I’m afraid endangering yourselves won’t help Ms. Granger recover. That wasn’t a suggestion,” McGonagall pursed her lips but softened at the thick tears oozing from my waterline and the violent way my lip was quivering, “I’m sure this is a massive shock, however. I’ll give you a few minutes to collect yourselves.”

The few minutes weren’t nearly long enough and I had only started crying more and more the longer the facts of what happened settled in. Harry comforted me by wrapping an arm around my shoulder while we trailed behind McGonagall. We were all consumed with coming to terms with what happened to the missing part of our team. Harry’s arm was shaking around my shoulders softly. Ron kept swearing under his breath and if McGonagall noticed she pretended to not hear it.

The entire house was waiting in the common room talking loudly but at the sight of a serious, grim McGonagall and my distraught state the entire room silenced in seconds. The seconds years were all sitting closely together and paled at the sight of us. It was impossible not to notice we were missing our curly haired know it all. 

“Could I have your attention, please? Because of recent events, these new rules will be put into effect immediately,” She spoke clearly and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment and began to list things off, while Harry and Ron pulled me away from the center of attention and back toward the stairs of the dorm rooms, “All students will return to their house common rooms by six o’clock every evening. All students will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No exceptions.”

She paused before solemnly adding, “I should tell you this: unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught, it is likely the school will be closed.” 

No one spoke or made any noise for a long time when McGonagall left. The only sounds were of my wet sniffling. Harry turned to Ron and me, overwhelmed with emotion, and whispered, “We’ve got to talk to Hagrid. I can’t believe it’s him, but if he did set the monster loose last time, he’ll know how to get inside the Chamber of Secrets, and that’s a start.”

“But you heard McGonagall! We’re not allowed to leave the tower except for class,” Ron whispered back looking around hoping no one overheard Harry. I nodded in agreement with Ron. 

“I think it’s time to get my Dad’s old cloak out again,” Harry frowned. 


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four: Follow The Spiders

Chapter Twenty-Four: Follow The Spiders

Later that night under the cover of the cloak, the three of us snuck away to the grey stone hut that Hagrid called home. We made sure to wait until everyone had fallen asleep to slip out the portrait hole. On our way to Hagrid's we passed nearly every teacher out patrolling the halls. They were all in pairs. Professors either had a prefect or a ghost marching alongside them.

The Chamber had unleashed far more than just a monster onto the school. It plagued the school with a clingy film of terror over everyone and everything. The forbidden hours to wander the castle had never been so lively or easier to get caught regardless of invisibility. Ron nearly gave us away when he stubbed his toe. Poor Professor Flitwick turned whiter than his collared shirt when Ron’s pained cry echoed in waves through the empty corridor. 

The only tranquil part of this night was the twinkling stars overhead unaffected by the horrors of the planet below them. We rushed toward the welcoming lights glowing softly through Hagrid’s windows. Only after Harry knocked on the great door did the cloak finally come off our bodies. It was roomier without Hermione but I never wanted to sneak around the castle without her ever again. Hagrid kicked open the door, and the three of us had a crossbow pointed right in front of our faces. 

“Merlin!” I squawked in a high pitched voice, “It’s us! Don’t shoot!” 

“What’s that for?” Harry breathed in alarm, but Hagrid lowered the weapon with a great sigh and turned around sharply giving the doorway enough open space to let us shuffle into the hut. 

"Oh, nothing. I- I was expecting, ah…,” Hagrid mumbled looking at the brutish crossbow in his arms warily until he shook his head and forced a friendly voice, “It doesn’t matter. Come on in. I just made a pot o’ tea.”

We rushed into the hut more than willing to be away from the dangerous openness of the grounds. The warmth of the cozy hut washed over me and I felt soothed for the first time since seeing Hermione. My eyes were puffy and sore from crying but there was no denying it was my cat curled up on the rug near the fire. I frowned at the cat and quickly scooped him into my arms. 

“Bernard! You can’t do whatever you want anymore! The monster attacks kitties too,” I squeezed him close to my chest not letting go when I sat down at the table next to Harry.

The feeling of his soft long hair was warm against my puffy face. He mewed sleepily and sniffed my swollen eyes. Even to Bernard it was obvious how hard I’ve been crying all day. Hagrid poured us warm tea in large blue and white polka dot teacups and offered a hard looking fruitcake as well. No one took up the offer but for the first time, I don’t think it was because of Hagrid’s awful baking skills. After the day we had I couldn’t eat my favorite meal even if Newt Scamander asked me. Well, maybe one of Poppi’s gingerbread cookies. Those always cheered me up as a kid. I wish Poppi came to Hogwarts with me sometimes, or I wish I could write to her at least.

“Hagrid, are you okay?” asked Harry softly. Hagrid’s hands were shaky pouring the tea and spilled a few splashes of the dark brown tea onto the table. 

“I’m fine! I’m alright.” Hagrid shook his head. His calloused hands messily mopped up the tea with an orange gingham hand towel. It just spread a thin layer of moisture across the wooden table. 

“Did you hear about Hermione?” Harry asked.

I pulled Bernard closer to my chest letting him rub his face against my chin comfortingly. He chirped lightly and gnawed on the diamond and sapphire swan earrings I had gotten for Christmas clanking the metal between his teeth. His temper tantrum was egged on when I swapped his face to the other side of my head and simply reached an arm out to try and use a claw to pull the bright red ribbon dividing my hair right out my hair. I blew a gust of air into his face, and he gave up to grumpily purr in my ear. 

“Oh, yeah,” Hagrid frowned looking at all of us in a gravely serious manner, “I heard about that, all righ’.”

Harry didn’t wait a moment longer to interrogate our friend, “Look, we have to ask you something. Do you know who’s opened the Chamber of Secrets?”

Hagrid looked down at his boots and tensely exhaled a deep lungful of air. Harry, Ron, and I shifted nervously. Bernard mewed at the giant softly craning his neck to look at his friend. You’d almost think he knew what we were saying if he didn’t almost instantly go back to rubbing his face against mine.

Slowly, Hagrid raised a hand and pointed at us with his pointer finger loosely, “What you had to understand about that is—.” 

A loud knock cut off Hagrid, and Bernard leaped from my arms and hid under the sofa. Hagrid glanced at the door wide-eyed and motioned at the cloak frenzied, “Don’t say a word. Be quiet, any o’ you.” 

We had huddled in the corner squeezed together trying to breathe as silently as possible despite the anxiety clinging to the four people in the hut. Once he was positive the cloak had totally hidden us from view, Hagrid swung open the wooden door where Dumbledore, and, to my great surprise, the Minister of Magic stood, “Professor Dumbledore, sir!” 

“Good evening, Hagrid. I wonder, could we…” Dumbledore nodded to the hut, and Hagrid didn’t hesitate for a second to welcome his headmaster into his home, along with Fudge. They both were dwarfed standing next to such an imposing man like Hagrid. 

“Of course! Come in! Come in,” Hagrid ushered them in.

The two men gazed around the somewhat strange, yet rustic home of the large man who’s possessions reflected the massive size of the groundskeeper. Bernard wasted no time leaping onto the kitchen knoll near Dumbledore to greet him. The Headmaster patted his head twice and focused on the matter at hand.

“That’s Dad’s boss! Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic!” Ron explained to Harry in an awed whisper. 

“Bad business, Hagrid. Very bad business. Had to come. Three attacks on Muggle-borns. Things have gone far enough. The Ministry’s got to act,” Fudge slowly addressed Hagrid as if expecting him to lash out and snap the Minister in two parts any moment. 

Hagrid’s face twisted in fear and looked to Dumbledore pleadingly, “Oh, but I never- you know I never, Professor!” 

“I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence,” Dumbledore said in a soft, calm voice nodding at his terrified employee soothingly. 

Fudge sighed deeply and shook his head, “Albus look, Hagrid’s record is against him. I’ve got to take him.” 

“Take me? Take me where? Not Azkaban Prison?” Hagrid’s jaw dropped glancing between the two men in equal parts terror and shock. Harry looked to Ron and I in confusion but I shook my head. ‘Not now,’ I mouthed. 

“I’m afraid we have no choice, Hagrid,” Fudge sighed sounding like this decision was much, much bigger than him. Even as Minister.

Nervously, my eyes snapped to the door creaking open to reveal the last man I would have expected standing in the doorway. I had to bite my lip to keep from audibly gasping. Harry and Ron recognized him from the run-in at the book shop. 

“Already here, Fudge? Good,” Lucius nodded at the Minister and let himself into the home. Quickly taking in the place with a face of disgust, Lucius cooly sneered at Hagrid. 

“What’re you doin’ here? Get outta my house!” Hagrid bellowed hotly at Lucius. 

The pureblood looked unaffected by the statement and curled his lip at the sight of the dirty sofa. The sight of the cat that stayed at his manor over the summer only prompted a slight eyebrow raise. Lucius hated cats, including his wife’s. Birds were more his kind of pet. 

“Believe me, I take absolutely no pleasure being inside your.. You call this a house?” He dissed snarkily before continuing with his statement, “No. I simply called at the school, and was told the headmaster was here.” 

“Well, what exactly is it that you want with me?” Dumbledore asked. 

“The other governors and I have decided it’s time for you to step aside. This is an order of suspension. You’ll find all twelve signatures on it. I’m afraid we feel you’ve rather lost your touch. Well, what, with all these attacks, there’ll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts. I can only imagine what an awful loss that would be to the school,” Lucius couldn’t even try to sound regretful or concerned to match the actual words he was speaking. It was barely a front. The scroll covering in thin signatures was passed to Dumbledore like he was presenting a successful hunt.

“Yeh can’ take Professor Dumbledore away. Take him away, an’ the Muggle-borns won’ stand a chance! You mark my words, there’ll be killin’s next!” Hagrid argued in horror getting angrier and angrier with each statement Lucius made. 

“You think so?” Lucius mocked and sounded a touch too thrilled with the idea. 

“Calm yourself, Hagrid. If the governors desire my removal, I will, of course, step aside,” Dumbledore soothed Hagrid before staring directly at the corner we stood in and walking up like he was peering at an empty corner to the other adults in the room, “However, you will find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” 

“Can…he see us?” I whispered as silently as possible. Ron elbowed me with his bony elbow.

Lucius barely contained the roll of his eyes ready to be in an environment more suitable for a Malfoy, “Admirable sentiments. Shall we? Fudge!” 

“Come, Hagrid,” Fudge nodded stoically toward Hagrid who looked about ready to run but Dumbledore nodded in a comforting way, “Well?” 

“Ahem! If, uh, if anybody was looking for some stuff, then all they’d have to do would be to follow the spiders. Yup! That would lead them right! That’s all I have to say.” Hagrid said loudly obviously to no but us that he was addressing us ignoring the looks from Fudge and Lucius like he was mad and added softly, “Oh, and someone’ll need to feed Fang while I’m away.” 

As Fudge passed Fang, the massive dog looked up and growled at the man who all but bolted away from him muttering, “Good boy.” 

With the closing of the wooden door, we ripped the cloak off us and Ron shuttered, “Hagrid’s right! With Dumbledore gone, there’ll be an attack a day!” 

“Please tell me that didn’t just happen. I’m dreaming,” I rubbed my eyes hoping the harsh crying had messed with my head but Ron nodded that it truly did just happen right before our eyes. 

“Look!” Harry whispered running up to the window where a thin trail of spiders were creeping out of the cracked window. Harry nodded at the Spiders, and rushed to grab one of the large lanterns near the door and nodded toward the two of us, “Well, come on. Come on, Fang!” 

Harry led the two of us out of the hut with Fang following sleepily. Fang would have been a comfort to have along if not for the fact he was a coward. I narrowed my eyes at the strange behavior of the spiders walking up closer to them cocking my head in confusion. Harry caught my eye and nodded. The lantern in his hands was massive because Hagrid was normally the one holding it.

“Come on!” Harry decided quickly walking near where I stood near the trail. 

“What?” Ron wheezed behind up shaking his head and backing away from the spiders. 

“You heard what Hagrid said; ‘Follow the spiders,” Harry frowned at Ron speaking as if what they were about to do was no different than any other day.

I guess for us it really wasn’t that peculiar. So long as animals were involved, my cowardice took the backseat. I did want to be just like Newt Scamander one day after all. This would be part of my dream job. Ron, however, more than made up for my normal meek terror. 

“They’re headed to the Dark Forest!” Ron weakly protested walking up to my side but when Harry didn’t let up on his venture into the dark forest with Fang and the massive lantern, Ron turned to me slowly following him, “Why spiders! Why couldn’t it be follow the butterflies?”

“I think I have an idea about what we are walking toward. I don’t know if this is the best idea, Harry,” I said after a few minutes carefully following the trail of spiders deeper and deeper into the forbidden forest alive with the cover of nightfall. I took a second to bend down next to the line wishing I had a magnifying glass to check for any markings. It was a shot in the dark literally. You could barely see anything in the forest this late. 

Summer was just around the corner and you could feel the warmth in the forest. Light humidity had begun thickening the thin winter air. Plants were blooming after the pleasant spring season, and the wildlife was fully out of hibernation and in the season of raising their young born in the spring. It was a lot noisier than the first time we ventured into the forest to look for slain unicorns but the raw energy vibrated against my skin almost like a sunburn. Even with the Glainnder. I almost forgot my terrifying theory about what we were walking toward once or twice with how much the aura of the wilderness around me intoxicated me. There was no denying this forest was ancient, and deeply interwoven with old, primal magic humanity could never hope to fully understand.

We had long since left the forest path and it was just getting darker and darker the further away from the trimmed path we ventured even with the lantern. The overhead branches were so thick no moonlight could beam through it. I surprised myself how well I seemed to dance around the roots and rocks lurking in the shadows to trip a clumsy set of feet. Ron flinched if any sound sounded nearby and huddled between Harry, Fang and I. 

Smiling to myself, I raised my hands, “Leoht.” 

“Don’t burn out,” Harry advised me and shifted his hold on the heavy lantern, reminding me of what happened on the full moon, “We don’t know what’s about to happen.” 

“I’ve been practicing. I can almost do it with just one hand. Look,” I smiled throwing the sphere slowly up a few inches before it hovered back down slowly. Fang jumped to bite at it as if it were a toy. 

Harry just nodded and went back to making sure we didn’t stray away from the spiders. The light was warm in my hand and filled me with comfort. It wasn’t as bright as the night of the full moon but I also didn’t take off the necklace. My senses would be overrun with the forest magic around me and I would be dead weight. Ron shook his head at me and looked sweaty from fear.

Even with the additional light, we had to stop every now and then to make sure we were headed the right way. The thick foliage and brambles caught on our uniform robes and cut against the exposed skin between my socks and skirt. Fang was the only one who didn’t struggle. I looked like I fell down a hill covered in rose bushes. Pansy’s pushed me into a few rose bushes over the years when visiting the Greengrass Estate lush gardens. So I’d know what that looks like. 

Before long we came up to a large tunnel covered in layers and layers of cobwebs, and the thin trail of spiders rapidly grew until the ground was entirely covered by the sheer number of spiders. You could hardly see the twigs, and dirt they were crawling over. The spiders were in a crazed frenzy and were not concerned about trampling another of their kind. 

“We must be close to the nest,” I commented looking at the overwhelming amount of spiders around us.

“Elle, I don’t like this,” Ron cried looking around breathlessly at his feet cringing when spiders would simply crawl over his shoes, “Harry, I don’t like this at all.” 

“Shh,” Harry hissed at his friend slowly walking up to the spider infested tunnel. Ron took one look at the white web tainted tunnel and shuttered. 

“Can we go back now?” He pleaded but Harry just glanced behind him and glared at the two of us, like I had also been complaining. 

“Wait, Harry,” I tried to pull on his robes to tell him what I think lurked beyond the webbed tunnel, “I think-.” 

“We don’t have time. Come on!” Harry hissed waving us forward and yanked his clothes from my hand.

Ron was nearly shaking when he followed behind Harry in the cave. I thanked every higher power he didn’t notice the puppy sized spider above his head at one point. His bright orange hair was only a centimeter from brushing against it. My theory was right. Our only hope would be if Hagrid’s old pet had a soft spot for his owner’s friends. Fang even seemed anxious. 

We emerged into a large grove of massive tangled roots covered in webs and cloaked in fog. It would have been beautiful if the spiders hadn’t overwhelmed every nook and cranny with their ghostly looking webs. There were large animal sized cocoons tucked between roots with thousands of smaller spiders fighting to have a bite of the meal. My mind filed through the few snippets I’d read about this creature and cursed inwardly. Please just be folklore. 

Druids used to worship and perform their great acts of magic in ancient oak groves just like this, but the grove I slowly entered was like something out of a children’s horror book rather than a sacred sanctuary. My energy started to feel a little weak and I let go of the light spell. Ron glared at the removal of the light but I just shook my head not liking the way my hairs were violently standing up on my skin or the goosebumps blooming across my body. 

Please just be folklore. Ron and I inched closer to each other with each tentative step. I ran my hand along Fang’s head for comfort. The enthusiasm for Magizooligy that trumped my cowardice was fading quickly. Even Harry seemed a lot less brave than a few short minutes ago. 

We walked up to a large web covered mass, and it took me a second to realize due to the darkness that it was a massive Acromantula moving sluggishly suffering from the weight of it’s own legs and body. The sight of the spider confirmed my hypothesis right, and unlike our missing team member, it was not satisfying to be correct. 

My mind raced with all the knowledge I’d read about them. Highly venomous fangs. Wizard made. Habitat: thick jungles and heavily forested areas. Social beasts capable of emotion. Females were larger and dominant over males and could lay up to a hundred eggs at a time. Capable of human speech. Ministry Classification: Beast XXXXX. This classification means they are known as wizard killers that are impossible to train or domesticate, like chimaeras, lethifolds, and dragons. 

Worst of all, these monsters were mostly cannibalistic, and carnivorous but preferred human flesh. Animal flesh could sustain them but they were hard wired to crave human blood at their most instinctual core. Wizards had bred these monstrous creatures. Allegedly, it was Morgana Le Frey who created these beasts in attempts to bring an end to her rival and my ancestor, Merlin, who simply banished them to a jungle island without humans. The magical trade spread them across the globe quickly after their rediscovery, and Morgana’s wickedness lived on. 

“Who is it?” A deep voice echoed into the clearing. 

Ron’s sharp wine erupted with a shutter. Harry seemed unaffected but I shuffled closer to Ron, who was shaking. The energy coming from the leader of the colony made my brain pop and zap. What was that spell to ward off spiders? Salazar, where is Hermione when you need her?

“Don’t panic,” Harry tried his best to keep Ron calm but it was a lost cause. His gaze was unable to focus and darted around us rapidly. 

“Hagrid? Is that you?” The spider asked, sounding hopeful. 

“We’re friends of Hagrid’s,” Harry declared. 

Wet cracking sounds echoed outward into the web infested grove growing louder and louder the more the leader of the spiders unfolded it’s long legs and slowly moved forward toward his guests. The weight and age of his body made his movements sluggish. Judging by the large pile of bones near the cave, this spider was on death’s door letting his offspring take care of him. Old looking webs tore from his body moving away from his throne for the first time in presumably a very long time.

“And you?” Harry tried his best to sound brave staring up at the monster trying to wrap his head around the massive size of the spider but the stuttering whisper in his next statement gave him away, “Y- y-you’re Aragog aren’t you?” 

“Yes. Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before,” Aragog hissed back, and the sounds of it’s children’s cries rallied in response.

I almost didn’t hear it, but somehow my magic understood they felt two overwhelming emotions. Hunger and bloodlust. Hagrid had often discussed the way our magic seemed to manifest in the communication with beasts, like the famed Newt Scamander and Isolt Sayre, but that understanding made my heart fall into my stomach at this moment. 

“Well, I’m a girl,” I blurted out trying to push away and deny the emotion blanketing the grove and blushed feeling stupid for even saying something so trivial and impulsively thoughtless. I added, as a quick afterthought, in a tight voice, “But same thing…really.”

“I smell the old blood in you, girl. Mmm, yes,” Aragog responded to me venomously and flexed his fangs, “My mother told me about the old blood when I was freshly hatched.” 

“He’s in trouble. Up at the school, there have been attacks. They think it’s Hagrid. They think he opened the Chamber of Secrets, like before,” Harry forced a change in topic not enjoying the predatory tone he took on talking about my blood or the way Aragog crept closer while saying it.

I felt Ron shuffle up closer so we were touching shoulders. His wines rang in my ear sharply. The emotional energy was coming in from all around us. The colony was desperate and limitless in their want for our blood.

“That’s a lie! Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets.” Aragog snarled. 

“Then you’re not the monster.” Harry nodded in understanding but wasn’t totally convinced. 

Ron wined sharply again. He pulled on my sleeve and pointed upwards. Dozens of spiders were slowly lowering toward us. I froze wide eyed at the impending predators. They were done with letting their fantasies fumble into their home without action or personal gain. Fang softly growled at one that got too close. 

“No! The monster was born in the castle. I came to Hagrid from a distant land, in the pocket of a traveler,” Aragog denied passionately. 

Yes, most Acromantula had migrated to thick jungles in Southeast Asia. Ron reached forward and tugged on Harry’s sleeve desperately. Harry just yanked his arm away. Fang was glancing around distressed. 

“Harry,” Ron’s voice cracked. 

Harry glanced behind him and shook his head hotly at Ron, “Shush. But if you’re not the monster, then- then what did kill that girl fifty years ago?” 

“We do not speak of it. It is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others,” Aragog hinted cryptically.

My mind was fully consumed with the rapidly growing spider army surrounding us to think of what it could possibly be. The hunger and bloodlust felt suffocating. Every survival instinct in my body was begging me to flee the grove while I still had the chance. I didn’t need a mirror to know my skin was void of all color. Ron was the opposite. His terror made his skin as red as his hair to the point his freckles vanished. 

“But have you seen it?” Harry was desperate for clues on how to stop these attacks, save the school and return everything back to normal. 

“I never saw any part of the castle but the box in which Hagrid kept me. The girl was discovered in a bathroom. When I was accused, Hagrid brought me here,” Aragog said. 

Ron finally had enough when the spiders were starting to be within jumping distance for him and firmly repeated, “Harry!” 

“Harry!” I echoed hoping it would snap him out of this dangerous chase for information. 

“What!” Harry snapped whirling around at us but we, clinging to each other, simply pointed upward in terror. The moment Harry saw the amount and size of spiders closing in on us he felt satisfied with what Aragog told him. Ron was whimpering shrilly again. 

“Well, thank you,” Harry stiffly tried his best to be polite as we slowly backed away from the massive spider slowly, “We’ll just…go.” 

“Go? I think not. My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid on my command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Good-bye, friends of Hagrid,” Aragog said coldly, “Morgana created our kind to kill the one you descended from, Old Blood. This is what we were bred to do. How foolish of you to deliver yourself to us, so very lucky for us.” 

“Can we panic now?” Ron whimpered to Harry.

I was speechless in my terror unable to respond to the confirmation about Merlin. His legacy was really more trouble than it was worth. Jasper would skin me alive if he knew the countless thoughts in my head wishing I had been born as a simple, history devoid muggleborn. My oxfords kicked up a thin cloud of dust around our ankles from the speed I rapidly spun around looking for even the smallest gap in spiders to use as an escape route. 

With a heavy thud, Fang slammed a spider onto the ground in front of us. It twitched on the ground, snarling at us consumed by its ravenous want. It reared its head and Ron and I pointed our wands at it but Harry smashed it midair with the giant lantern when it leaped toward us. Another was smacked away with the lantern before first even hit the ground. Our backs were together as we became more and more surrounded by each half-second.

“Know any spells?” Ron asked Harry and I.

“One, but it’s not powerful enough for all of them,” Harry sounded desperate, “Elle? Have you ever read anything in one of your creature books?” 

“Not for anything like this,” I breathed looking upward at the next wave of spiders closing in from above, “The one I know only affects the smaller ones. Or to freeze their web glands to stop from eating you.”

“Where’s Hermione when you need her?” Ron whimpered. The spiders, over a hundred, closed in on us until they were circled around us less than a kick away. My wand was bobbing in my extended handshaking in tremors. Fang snapped his snout at a cat-sized spider that dared to get too close. 

Just as I was wondering if there would be anything left of our bodies for anyone to find, bright white light flooded the shadow thick clearing, and with a roar, a muggle car sped through the tunnel we entered. Spiders in the path of the car were either crushed under the hunk of light blue metal or sent flying through the air until they landed on the ground or against a tree trunk with a crunch. The spiders, in a desperate act of self-preservation, fled the clearing but stayed just within eyesight partly cloaked in darkness. 

To avoid getting a similar beat down we had to speed backward in a run and the baby blue car slammed to a stop right in front of us. My mind was officially unable to string together enough thoughts to make sense of the turn of events. We could question this bizarreness if we survived. With rusty squeaks, all the doors of the car opened inviting us into it. 

“Let’s go!” Harry snapped me out of my frozen state, and I ran to the car, not pausing to throw myself into the back seat to make room for Ron behind me. Fang followed me in the tiny backseat. My scream was shrill when the dog sized spider from before threw itself against Harry’s window cracking the glass. 

“Arania exumai!” I screamed, shooting the spider with a blast of magic, making it landed a few yards away but quickly got back up angrier than ever. 

Above us, the roof lurched from another spider landing and dented inward slightly. On the hood of the car, the largest spider yet bared its fangs at us and cracked the windshield attempting to break our fragile shield. 

“Go!” Harry begged the car, and with a jolt of movement we were zooming backwards out of the den of human eating spiders through the tunnel from before.

The low ceiling of roots blasted the roof spider away. Harry and Ron’s scream blended with mine chaotically. A massive army of spiders chased us climbing over each other in the tunnel we just left. A few smaller colony members were trampled to a mush by their siblings. Their high pitched cries echoed through the forest but the car was much, much faster than them. 

The car was air bound for a few long seconds after zooming backwards up a hill like a ramp knocking the spider clinging to the hood off. It didn’t move. Our chest were all heaving, desperate to catch our breath. 

“Glad we’re out of there!” Ron breathed, turning his face away from his side window. The spider on the hood broke the glass and wrapped two of it’s long, hairy limbs around Ron squealing hungrily. My girlish scream nearly smothered the spider’s sounds. 

Harry reacted quickly with wide, terror enriched eyes and pointed his wand, “Arania exumai!”

This time the spider flew a half mile away, and slammed against a massive tree root bending it’s body in a grotesque shape with a crunch. Ron’s head was still pulled back frozen by the near death experience. 

“Did it bite you? Their fangs are venomous,” I reached out shakily moving his flannel collar to the side a little checking for blood. It was just red from the same fear induced anxiety as before. Ron shook his head jerkily. 

“Thanks for that,” Ron nodded at Harry. 

“Don’t mention it,” Harry breathed out the lungful of air he was holding in putting his wand in his jacket pocket. 

“Does it seem a little…too quiet to you?” My eyes darted around the foggy, peaceful forest floor. It didn’t feel like paranoia. 

An entire army was crawling over each other trying to beat each other to their human feast. The soft crackling of the spider’s many legs rose from behind the hill we just used as a ramp. One by one spiders came into view until the entire tree line in front of us was infested. Beside me, Fang growled territorially with drool splashing onto my robes.

“Get us out of here,” Harry whispered to Ron in the driver’s seat who grabbed the rusty gear shift shakily, “Now! Come on!” 

“Come on! Move faster!” Harry screamed at Ron driving the car in a fast reverse while the spider hoard gained on us. We all screamed when the car spun out of control against the loose dirt of the forest earth. The car was facing away from the spiders now. 

“Move!” I screamed at Ron. 

Changing the gear again, we started to zoom forward. Ron was the only one of us, including Fang, who looked forward away from the determined spiders chasing us rapidly. The ground was shaking from the movement of the spider horde. Ron steered the zooming car between the trees. Spiders flanked both sides of the car. 

“Get us in the air.” Harry ordered Ron. 

Ron pulled a long black lever but it halted with a clang, “The flying gear’s jammed!” 

“Look! In front of us!” I pointed at the large group of spiders that were waiting on us to drive right to them. 

Harry shook his head refusing to be a spider’s favorite meal and reached over and helped Ron try to unjam the lever. There was no room for me to lean over the front seats and push too.The back window blocked me from shooting off spells at the army. All I could do was ready my wand at the quickly gaining spiders behind us. 

Harry grunted, “Come on! Pull!”

“I’m trying!” Ron screamed frustrated, as the car started lurching, hitting spiders with the front of the car with force. Our screams echoed across the silent forest for miles. Finally, the car rose from the ground.

The back end of the car slammed into the large trunk of a fallen tree but recovered quickly zooming into the dark navy sky farther and farther from the spiders snarling upwards. The emotional energy bubbled up from the ground in fury but the longer we were in the sky the softer it got. Soon I couldn’t sense anything at all besides my own relief. In our escape we didn’t realize how close to the edge of the forest we had gotten because the flying car was descending downward dangerously toward the clearing next to Hagrid’s hut. I screamed and braced myself for the crash landing. 

With a metal crunch, the front of the car smashed against the grass in an explosion of grass and dirt breaking the left headlight. The roar of the car sharply ended, and the boys opened the doors fleeing the vehicle with me tripping over myself behind them. Fang was at my heels whining wetly from his slobber. Harry, Ron and I panted desperate to catch our breath after barely escaping our end. It didn’t last long, and Ron stomped to meet Harry and I at the front of the car. 

“Follow the spiders! Follow the spiders! If Hagrid ever gets out of Azkaban, I’ll kill him!” Ron shouted balling his hands into fists. The clunky sounds of the car sputtering back to life ended Ron’s rant. It sped backwards into the darkness of the tree line, while we just watched wordlessly. 

“You two introduced cars to the forest’s ecosystem,” I blinked, cocking my head where the car entered the forest. 

Ron wasn’t done with his rage and kept on ignoring me, “I mean, what was the point of sending us in there? What have we found out?” 

“That my father should have left a bloody note about creatures I needed to avoid,” I swore uncharacteristically feeling half as angry as Ron, “Who knows what else wants to kill me?” 

Harry and Ron nodded at me in agreement, not surprised I was willing to curse after a near death experience. Harry, the only calm one, responded to Ron in a serious tone, “We know one thing. Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets. He was innocent.” 

“Next time we think Hagrid’s killing students, let’s ask right away so we don’t have to ask his spider friends again,” I weakly requested, “Five X’es. Hagrid sent us to talk to a beast with a five X Ministry rating. That’s like having tea with a dragon!”

“Agreed,” Ron and Harry said in unison. 

We were all silent for a moment. The dark, dangerous forest seemed to stare right back at us taunting us and challenging us to reenter for another round of betting our lives. Bernard jumped from the open window of Hagrid’s hut and bounded over to me. His pastel orange fur rubbed against my calfs begging to be lifted into my arms. Some help he was. He looked like he just woke up from another nap. 

“Let’s get back to the common room before anyone notices,” Harry broke the silence leading us back into Hagrid’s hut to grab the cloak. 

“At least Astoria is going to love this one,” I whispered to myself, sounding entirely emotionally drained. Sluggishly climbing the stairs after Harry, I cocked my head slightly, “Should we feed Fang before we leave? Hagrid said to feed him. Maybe we should bring him back to the tower. I don’t want him to get lonely.” 

“Estelle,” Harry shook his head, “McGonagall would know the second she saw him that we left the castle without asking.” 

“I could hide him in my dormitory,” I said, “He’s going to get sad without Hagrid around.” 

“Hagrid hid that monster in a box when he was a student,” Ron shuttered, “Fangs a breeze compared to that thing.” 

“He wasn’t hiding it from McGonagall,” Harry pointed out. 

“He’s got a point there, Elle,” Ron reluctantly nodded, “She’s good. Scary good.” 

“Sorry, Fang,” I pouted, running my hand over the dog’s head, “We should get back before something else tries to kill us.” 


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five: Her Skeleton

With Dumbledore gone, the fear of the Heir had festered in every crack and empty space of the castle like an infection turning a body septic. The morning the news broke about Dumbledore’s suspension, every single person, besides the smug Slytherins, flinched at every unexpected sound and movement. The rare boat of laughter sounded taboo in the halls and never lasted more than a few seconds before it was smothered. Summer had arrived but the golden light of the warm season was repelled by the overwhelming fear saturating the halls. 

People weren’t allowed to travel without a prefect or professor to guide you anywhere. No one minded the common room being stuffed to the brim because it meant everyone could easily be accounted for in the house. No one felt safe, and everyone was watching their back closer than their shadow ever could dream of doing. 

Bernard caused Neville Longbottom to nearly faint when he jumped up onto the couch in the common room beside him the night we all found out about Dumbledore, and the white faced boy went to bed with a neck heavy from all the protection amulets he could find. Including the smelly onion one. No one could even blame him anymore. Pavarti even asked to borrow it. 

McGonagall assured me that Fang was well taken care of and did not need to camp out in our common room. I wanted to press her on it like Draco does when he didn’t get his way but she was looking more and more lackluster by the day. We weren’t allowed to visit Hermione either. The Chamber of Secrets was draining everyone to the very last drop of their energy. 

Draco was the only person who was strutting around the school happily. His father finally managed to rid the school of Dumbledore after so many years and he couldn’t have been prouder. I was tempted to purposefully cause my potion to explode one day when he suggested Snape should apply for the open position from his spot in front of me. I didn’t want to risk my grade in potions without Jareth or Hermione to help me with Transfiguration revision leading up to the exams. 

Ron, Harry, and I quickly realized just how much Hermione made sure we stayed on top of our course work. Especially Ron and I with how easily we could make anything worthy of procrastination and distraction. The other day we spent three hours organizing his chocolate frog card collection to avoid our History of Magic homework. Harry was the one who finally made us settle down and write about one of the goblin revolts. Hermione would have been beaming with pride. 

No one thought Harry had anything to do with the chamber anymore. Many people honestly felt bad after we lost one of the members of our tight knit group. I nearly missed it, as Sprout had been letting me help with the mandrakes during lessons in a greenhouse over, but I managed to return to Harry and Ron’s side just in time for Ernie Macmillan to apologize to Harry for spreading the rumor about him being the Heir of Slytherin. Harry and I forgave him, aware it came from the place we felt now that our own friend was petrified. Ron wasn’t so easy and made sure to mess with him for the rest of the class about Ernie’s theory that it was Draco. Well, until Ernie asked Harry, who bluntly and without room for debate, disagreed that Draco Malfoy was The Heir.

The first time anyone was forced out of the ever-present terror about the Chamber was during a transfiguration class. A half hour hadn’t even passed when McGonagall drove the chamber out of everyone’s thoughts within seconds by firmly reminding everyone that our final exams were only a week away.

“Exams?” barked Seamus Finnigan, “We’re still getting exams?” 

Neville must have felt a similar way to me because he dropped his wand from his hand, and with a loud bang accidentally vanished one of the legs of his desk chair. Normally people would have laughed at poor Neville but everyone was too appalled. McGongall quickly fixed the situation with the chair and responded to Seamus, “The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education. The exams will therefore take place as usual and I trust you have all been studying hard.” 

When no one spoke, McGonagall frowned darkly, “Professor Dumbledore’s instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible and that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year.” 

We were doomed. 

How were any of us going to pull this off without Hermione? Ron leaned over to Harry and I with an expression of dread and held up his taped wand whispering, “Can you imagine taking exams with this?” 

Three days later and with the exams creeping up on us, Harry, Ron and I woke up before dawn in an attempt to cram as much History of Magic into our heads before breakfast and then switch to Charm’s revisions. We didn’t have time to study without frenzied stress anymore.

The sun wasn’t even illuminating the grounds in its summerly grandeur and dawn was a mere suggestion through the windows in shades of pink and warm yellow when Ron, looking around the deserted common room, suggested we use the cloak to go visit Hermione. She’d want to know about how we were preparing. It’s how we justified sneaking past the sleepy eyed professors, and their patrolling partners into the deserted hospital wing. 

Pomfrey was working on the remedy with Sprout in her office, and we made sure to be quiet enough not to alert them that the wing had company. The other petrified students were all lined up next to Hermione staring out into the wing with glassy eyes. We took turns rambling on about what we were studying and the homework. She’d be asking every day if she wasn’t cursed in this horrible frozen state. It almost felt normal. Except Hermione’s eyes were like glass marbles, and her skin was smooth and hard like a polished stone.

“Wish you were here Hermione. We need you…,” Harry sighed thickly from his spot at the foot of her bed looking down sadly, “Now, more than ever.” 

“Hermione, you would-,” I started and put my hand over her frozen palm.

I had cut myself off when I felt the rough texture of crumpled paper in her fist. Ron and Harry leaned over and watched while I carefully pulled the paper from her fist making sure to avoid ripping it up. It took a few minutes of careful and delicate wiggling but I got it out and flattened the page out as quickly as possible. The moment my eyes read the cover of the page a low crackling moan emitted from my throat. 

“How did I not realize?” I shook my head and let Harry take the paper from me, “Of course, the monster is a basilisk. The roosters! The spiders! The king of snakes! I’m so stupid! They are just so rare. I never connected it. I have three books on them at home. How did I not see it?” 

“Wait, what is that?” Ron asked Harry, cutting off my blubbering who was reading over the page. 

Harry sprang up reading the page, and motioned us into the hallway. Ron looked between us like he was ready to snatch the paper from Harry if we waited any longer. I grabbed the invisibility cloak from the foot of Hermione’s bed and tucked it under my arm as I tried to keep up with the boys. 

“Ron, this is why Hermione was in the Library the day she was attacked,” Harry explained as we rushed through the door not bothering to hide under the cloak, “Come on.” 

We rushed through the echoing, abandoned castle halls. Harry waited to read the paragraph until we were far from the hospital wing. The torches illuminated his face, and created a flickering reflection on his glasses lens, “Of the many fearsome beasts that roam our land, none is more deadly than the basilisk. Capable of living for hundreds of years, instant death awaits any who meet this giant serpent’s eye. Spiders flee before it.’ Guys, this is it. The monster in the Chamber of Secrets is a basilisk. That’s why I can hear it speak. It’s a snake!” 

“But if it kills by looking people in the eye, why is it no one’s dead?” Ron pointed out. 

After a moment of silence, I gasped, placing a hand over my mouth, “Because no one did look into its eyes! They were all reflections! They all were lucky.” 

“Colin saw it through his camera. Justin…Justin must have seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick. Nick got the full blast of it- but he’s a ghost- he couldn’t die again,” Harry quickly listed off as everything that didn’t make sense quickly came together. 

“And Hermione was using her mirror. She would not have risked getting attacked once she figured this out. She’s too smart. I’m positive she was looking around corners when it got her,” I breathed. A deep swell of pride about my best friend bubbled in my chest. Harry and Ron nodded in agreement. 

“And Mrs. Norris? I’m pretty sure she didn’t have a camera or a mirror,” Ron pointed out. 

“But Moaning Myrtle flooded the hall, remember? That’s how I noticed Mrs. Norris first. I saw her reflection on the ground when we were looking at the spiders,” I shook my head, “How did I not put it together? Spiders flee from basilisks because of their eyes! They wouldn’t stand a chance!”

“But how’s a basilisk been getting around? A dirty great snake. Someone would have seen it,” Ron, even though he fully believed what we were saying, pointed out a flaw in the theory with a voice drenched in his own confusion. 

“Hermione’s answered that, too,” Harry smiled softly, holding up the page to us and pointing at a hastily written word at the bottom of the page in black ink. ‘Pipes.’

“Pipes? It’s using the plumbing!” Ron grimaced. 

“Remember what Aragog said about that girl fifty years ago? She died in a bathroom? What if she never left?” Harry slowly voiced his thoughts as they were put together in his head. All of our eyes grew wide at the realization. 

“Moaning Myrtle,” Ron breathed. 

“All those months in her bathroom talking about the chamber and we could have asked her,” I noted, “She was right there the whole time. We never realized!” 

Before anyone had a chance to respond to me, McGonagall’s voice echoed in the empty halls, “All students are to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers to the second floor corridor, immediately.”

We didn’t even have to look at each other. We just simply started running. Not toward the common room like we were ordered but rather the second floor corridor. Hermione’s attack had emboldened me. The thought of running to safety hadn’t crossed my mind once the entire run to the corridor.

We managed to get to the corridor right as the teachers were running up to another blood written message, quickly we peaked over the corner at the teachers. They were all there. Sleep deprived and smaller than they had ever looked. Dumbledore’s leave was draining his staff. All the faculty were staring at the message in silence. Horrified and frozen. Time and all the swirling magical energy around us seemed to freeze from the implication of the message. In dripping red blood, the message simply wrote, ‘Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever.’ 

“As you can see, the Heir of Slytherin has left another message. Our worst fear has been realized. A student has been taken by the monster into the Chamber itself,” McGonagall was the first to speak and her voice was tight and forced, “The students must be sent home. I’m afraid this is the end of Hogwarts.”

“No,” I whispered to myself. 

I can’t go back to how life was before. I just can’t. Hogwarts had birthed a shining light within me that was letting me heal the empty caverns gnawing into me before. Hogwarts’ dangerous and forgotten secrets were taking it back. Like Jareth said earlier this year, you can pick your own family and my family was at Hogwarts. 

Lockhart, with a ditsy smile, ran up to the crowd with his golden curls springing around his face. Pink, high fashion robes fluttered around his waist. He smiled brightly at his fellow staff members and fixed his cape. 

“So sorry. Dozed off. What have I missed?” He chuckled as if he was blind to the heated glares of everyone in the hallway and the bloody message. 

“A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Your moment has come, at last,” Snape curled his lips and for once I was on Snape’s side. Sprout made a mocking face at Lockhart that would have fooled many people into thinking it was actually an encouraging expression but I spent way too much time with the woman to be fooled. 

“My m-moment?” Lockhart stuttered. The rosiness of his cheeks drained of all warmth. 

“Weren’t you saying just last night that you’ve known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?” Snape didn’t let him forget the boasting he’d been subjecting everyone to for months. Lockhart’s arrogance was finally catching up to him.

“Well, that’s settled. We’ll leave you to deal with the monster, Gilderoy. Your skills, after all, are a legend,” McGonagall smirked, joining Snape’s taunts. It was strange seeing the two work together so effortlessly as they were House Heads for rival houses. 

“Very well- ah- I’ll just be in my office getting, um, getting ready,” Lockhart nodded paler than a ghost and turned on his heel speed walking as quickly away from the message. The remaining professors stared at the wall in a mixture of intense negative emotions. 

“Who is it that the monster’s taken, Minerva?” Pomfrey asked softly. 

The name seemed to choke McGonagall for a few seconds before sorrowfully escaping her lips, “Ginny Weasley.” 

There was a long silence but the professors all went back in the direction they came from weighted down from the painful task of going into their house’s common room and informing the students of the closing of the school. Trunks would be packed. Whispers would be shared. Teary hugs would be exchanged. Confusion about the continuation of our education would spread like wildfire. Denial would be clung to. Eventually everyone would be forced to go separate ways because of the finely aged prejudice that managed to survive undetected for centuries.

Ron’s legs shook dangerously, and I wrapped an arm around his torso tightly. He was shaking with unshed tears in his eyes. Ginny was sweet and I regretted not getting closer to her this year. Her and Bernie had bonded. The Weasley family was so close, and she was the only girl. Molly Weasley was such a good mother. She was going to be consumed in grief. Her baby was Salazar’s final prize. A pureblood for a pureblood. 

“‘Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever.’ Ginny…,” He whimpered and unlike the terrified sounds in the forest, these sounds were full of unmeasurable pain and grief. Harry and I glanced at each other unsure of how to ‘fix’ a situation so unfixable. 

“No,” Harry shook his head fiercely, “It might not be too late. We have to tell Lockhart about what we know. Come on. There still might be time.” 

The opportunity for hope about his sister electrified Ron, and he was the first to start running toward Lockhart. There was a chance. Surely Lockhart could handle this if he’s accomplished so much already. He would save my best friend’s family from irreparably shattering with tragedy and grief. The twins would stay mischievous. Percy would stay ambitious. Ron would stay carefree. Ginny would stay alive. 

It didn’t take us long to get to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and run through the isles of desks like we were running laps for Oliver Wood. The escaped pixies seemed like a lifetime ago now. I would do anything to return to that day, with the ink dripping down my face, to have Hermione moving freely and Ginny safe and sound. 

Harry looked back at us and shouted in urgency, “Lockhart may be useless, but he’s going to try and get into the Chamber. At least we can tell him what we know.”

All the portraits of Lockhart were missing from the walls, and when we slammed open his office door we figured out where they were. He had them thrown into a large box nearby two lilac trunks overflowing with a rainbow of pastel robes. The celebrity was hyperventilating, throwing his possessions into his trunks like a man on the run. 

“Professor, we have some information for you!” Harry said when we burst into the room holding the slip of paper out to him freezing and recoiling the moment he noticed the trunks, “Are you going somewhere?”

“Uh, ah- Well, yes. Um, urgent call. Unavoidable. Got to go,” Lockhart stammered out without taking a moment to pause in packing his thing. He couldn’t look at Ron. 

“What about my sister?” Ron demanded his attention getting redder and redder in the face. 

"Well, um, as to that, most unfortunate. No one regrets more than I,” Lockhart made a dramatic effort of clutching his heart sorrowfully. 

“You’re the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! You can’t go now!” Ron argued. 

“Well, I must say when I took the job there was nothing in the job description about a…,” Lockhart trailed off. 

“You’re running away? After all that stuff you did in your books?” Harry hissed desperately. I shook my head. Of course, he never did any of that stuff. He’s a total fool! 

“Books can be misleading!” Lockhart protested. 

“You wrote them!” Harry shouted jaw dropping. 

“How dare you accept that Order of Merlin award!” I sneered at him knowing I looked fully Slytherin at that moment. Perhaps if the situation wasn’t so dire, my friends would have reacted to the part of me that developed from a childhood nurtured by Slytherins. My sneer deepend and I tilted my nose upward at him like he was filth, “You’re a spineless loser! You’re a disgrace of a wizard!” 

“Children, do use your common sense! My books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t think I’d done all those things!” Lockhart protested as if we were misinformed. 

“You’re a fraud! You’ve just been taking credit for what other wizards have done!” Harry yelled disgusted. 

My buried Slytherin attributes burst out once more with a heated, prideful hiss that surprised even myself, “You’re going to be a laughing stock when I’m through with you. I wouldn’t bother packing those awards.” 

“Is there anything you can do?” Ron sounded like an overwhelmed cocktail of desperation, repulsion, and rage. His hands were shaking violently. I could feel the magic crackling around him. 

“Yes, now you mention it. I’m rather gifted with Memory Charms. Otherwise, you see, all those wizards would have gone blabbing. And I’d never have sold another book,” Lockhart was suddenly very calm and withdrew his light toned wand from his pocket and pointed it at us, “In fact I’m going to have to do the same to you.” 

But we all had our wands pointed at him before he’d even finished the sentence, and surrounded him. Harry snarled pushing him out his office door with his wand, “Don’t even think about it.”

☾☾☾☾

If there was one thing I knew about ghosts from all the books I’ve read is that they all loved, for the most part, to discuss how they died. It’s their big event. They even had death day parties. Uncle Jasper had been invited to a fair few through the connections he made through his work in the Department of Mysteries. Only the dead still knew a lot of the forgotten secrets of the wizarding world. He would never allow me to tag along to any of these parties. Much too morbid for a little girl to enjoy herself, in his opinion. 

So when we arrived in Myrtle’s bathroom, I took the lead, surprising myself once more, and let the boys watch Lockhart carefully. There was no awkward hesitation or meekness in my action. 

“Oh! Who’s there? Oh! Hello, Harry! Ron! Estelle,” Myrtle smiled greeting us like old friends and floated down to us directly in front of me, “What do you want?” 

“Hello. Myrtle, if you don’t mind me asking,” I smiled politely thanking all my etiquette classes mentally, “Would you please tell us how you passed away? If it isn’t too painful.”

“Oh! It was dreadful,” Myrtle pouted dramatically as if hoping someone would ask this soon and revealed in the attention by dramatically retelling it in forced sorrow, “It happened right here in this very cubicle. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in.” 

“Who was it Myrtle?” Harry asked hurriedly. I elbowed him discreetly. He didn’t care.

“I don’t know. I was distraught!” Myrtle snapped but quickly went back into her melancholy, “But they said something funny, a kind of made up language. And I realized it was a boy speaking, so I unlocked the door to tell him to go away and… I died.” 

“Just like that? How?” Harry pressed.

Myrtle frowned authentically this time. There was no flashy show of sorrow. It was a quiet, pulsing hurt buried deep in the forgotten, and avoidable place of her heart. Slowly raising a hand and pointed at a sink with yellow stains, she shuttered, “I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes over there by that sink.”

The boys rushed over to the sink, and forced Lockhart to follow. She stared at the sink for a long moment before sharply snapping her head to stare at me. Her lip quivered uncomfortably. 

I nodded at Myrtle empathetically wishing I could hug her, “That sounds horrible, Myrtle. I’m so sorry that happened to you. It’s not fair.” 

“Yes,” She smiled in wicked gleefulness throwing herself into her persona once more at the first chance of distraction from her death, “It was horrible.” 

“Estelle, come here,” Harry called over running his hands along the antique tap, and once I was standing next to him I noticed the engraved snake on the side, “This is it. This is it, guys. I think this is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.” 

“Say something,” Ron prompted, waiting a second for Harry to snap out of his intense thoughts and repeated himself firmer, “Harry, say something in Parseltongue!” 

“Hesha- Hassah,” Harry hissed.

Raised to the call, the sinks started to move with loud bangs, and locks sliding into place after centuries of neglect. We all backed up from the moving sinks sliding, raising, and sinking. They moved like a well engineered machine to expose a long, dark and seemingly bottomless hole, with the sinks creating a semicircle and a short platform to jump from. A rush of magical energy swept out from the pit and shot through me making me vision go spotty for a second. 

“Excellent, Harry. Haa! Good work! Well then, I’ll just be, ah… ,” Lockhart stepped forward to peer down the long shoot and shook his head defiantly and turned around quickly attempting to run through us as if to take us by surprise, “There’s no need for me to stay.”

He knocked me down but the boys flung him back nearly pushing him into the pit. My knee slammed into the cold tile with a smack. I got back to my feet, ignoring the large scrape on my knee dripping a trail of deep red blood down my leg, and glared. The wound throbbed but adrenaline masked the pain. I raised my wand to his face enraged with the pathetic man. 

“Oh, yes there is! You first,” Harry chortled venomously. 

“Now, Children, what good will it do?” Lockhart pathetically attempted to reason with us. 

Ron snarled, “Better you than us.” 

“We have our whole lives ahead of us, Sir” I smiled in a sickly sweet tone, “Professors are supposed to protect their students. It’s only proper.” 

“Um, but... Obviously, yes. Sure you don’t want to test it first?” He attempted once more glancing over his shoulder before turning around reluctantly facing the darkness. 

Ron used his wand to shove Lockhart off the edge of the platform. The pink robed man flailed dramatically with his robes fluttering around him. He looked like a pink bird that never learned to fly. Lockhart dropped like a rock into the darkness with a terrified howl that got fainter and fainter until it stopped. We all peered down into the pit. It was so silent. Had he been crushed into a pile of pastel robes, haircare and guts on the bottom of the pit? Was the Basilisk waiting at the bottom with a monstrous mouth over the opening waiting to swallow us whole?

Right when I was opening my mouth to ask, Lockhart spoke calmly in a detached and dejected voice that echoed up to us from the darkness, “It’s really quite filthy down here.” 

“He’s fine,” I nodded to the boys. 

“All right. Let’s go,” Harry responded sounding like he’s never been scared in his entire life. Even I was surprised at the calm emotion I was feeling. The year of terror had drained all my supply of fear until there was nothing left. We had to save Ginny. 

“Oh, Harry? If you die down there, you’re welcome to share my toilet. Hehe,” Myrtle giggled winking at Harry and twirled her pigtail around one of her fingers. 

“Uh, Thanks Myrtle,” Harry smiled in a very forced polite way. 

I glanced at Ron, with a small frown and whispered, “What about us?” 

Ron just shrugged too emotionally distraught to carry on our normal banter. Harry nodded to us, and jumped down. Ron followed shortly after. Myrtles sharp giggle was the last thing I heard before I plunged myself down into the pit. 

There was a short free fall but soon I landed on a slanted rock that was covered in something slimy. It was like a very poorly designed slide. Large rocks jutted out and hit my body that without a doubt left massive bruises. I could already feel them forming. Sharp turns slammed me into the sticky walls covering my uniform in dust, algae, and other things I didn’t want to dwell on. Thank Merlin, I was wearing the uniform skirt with the shorts sewn under. When I landed on a bed of brittle, sharp things, my white uniform collar was covered in filth and was far from what it looked like just seconds ago. 

“Absolutely not! No! No!” I squealed the moment I realized I had landed in a massive pile of rat bones and threw myself to my feet. Goosebumps erupted across my skin. A shiver shot down my body giving me a creepy shutter. I whispered, flinging a skull from a fold in my robes and covered my mouth to gag, “So... many.” 

Lockhart was eyeing us suspiciously, and I quickly raised my wand to point at him with Harry and Ron. The top half of my hair was starting to fall out of the red ribbon and framed my face wildly. Lockhart’s once pristine designer robes were covered in so much filth they looked brown. Even his curls had fallen into chaotic waves. I shuddered to think what was being hidden in the darkness of our uniform. The smell was enough alone to be fully engrossed in repulsion. Lockhart’s eyes were darting around the massive stone clearing that was connected to huge pipes like a caged animal. 

“Ugh,” Ron grimaced wobbly on the unsteady piles of bones. 

Harry was unfazed and spoke firmly to us while he moved toward the only opening that seemed to lead somewhere, “Now remember, any sign of movement, close your eyes straight away.”

Harry lifted himself up into the large pipe leading out of the room and ventured through the darkened pipes with his wand raised ready for a monster to spring out at us. I hurried after him and tried to climb onto the raised tunnel with grace but my short legs made me look like a struggling fool for a second before I hurried after Harry. I raised my hands, after tucking my wands away in my opal holster covering it with my robe so Lockhart couldn’t snag it, and said, “Leoht!” 

The pipe was filled with bright, celestial light from the orb in my hands showing every color of the rainbow in the slimy filth around us. We were in a world of wet decay that vibrated with old magic. Harry glanced behind him and nodded at me to keep it up. 

“Don’t use up all your energy,” He reminded me without looking back, “We might need it.” 

Behind me, Ron barked at Lockhart forcing him between us, “Go on.” 

I was a few steps behind Harry as we rushed through the twists and turns of the pipe. My handmade leather shoes slipped and struggled to stay stable against the slick pipes. It smelt terrible, and my heart was pounding. Time was of the essence. Ginny was counting on us. It was just us left to save her. 

I could feel the familiar sickness I’d felt all year. Suddenly I realized. I wasn’t sick from attempting druid spells or anxiety attacks like Pomfrey suggested. The presence of a man made monster like the basilisk must have set off some strange druid sense in me as a warning. Basilisks were created by one of the darkest wizards in history from black magic. Based on my experience with Aragog, it would make sense Druids reacted negatively to the perversion of the natural way of the world. From everything I’ve read and heard the druids were disciples of nature. Down to the smallest measurement of ability, druid magic was derived from nature and it’s balance. The only reason this old magic was in my bloodline was to protect that delicate balance.

As quickly as possible, I slipped the amulet from my neck and into the zipper pocket on the inside of my robes, and was overcome with a sense of warning and adrenaline. This time when I cast the light spell it was brighter than ever before. There was no amulet or lack of practice holding me back anymore. 

We entered a room, and my hairs rose on my gooseprinkled skin at the sight of the monstrously massive snake skin. It was hard to breathe in the presence of it’s magical aura and it wasn’t even the real snake. Without thinking I rushed to the head of the beast, with Harry right behind me. I raised the light to where the eyes would be on the real monster, and a shutter overcame me.

“What’s this?” Ron gasped beside Lockhart at the tail. 

"It looks like a… snake,” Lockhart noted. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. 

“It’s a snakeskin,” Harry explained tensely. 

“Which means… the basilisk outgrew this skin,” I soberly frowned. Harry came up to my side, and we shared a terrified look. Was Ginny even still alive? What were we about to face?

“Bloody hell. Whatever shed this must be sixty feet long or more!” Ron swore gazing at the skin in horror. Suddenly, Lockhart collapsed at his side overwhelmed at the sight of the monster’s remains. Ron’s lip curled in disgust and sarcastically said to us, “Heart of a lion, this one.”

None of us realized it was a ruse until Lockhart snatched Ron’s wand from his hands and pointed it at him smirking nastily. Triumph oozed from the filthy man who smirked at us dramatically, “The adventure ends here, Children. But don’t fret. The world will know our story. How I was too late to save the girl. How you three tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body. So, you first, Mr. Potter. Say good-bye to your memories.” 

“Obliviate!” Lockhart cast with a flourish but there was a flash of sickly green light and he was thrown into the cave like ceiling overhead with the force of a giant’s throw. 

He landed on the ground unmoving. Suddenly the stone walls around us groaned with a shuttered steady getting more and more ferocious. Dust fell from the ceiling, and then the entire ceiling fell out between Ron and Lockhart, and Harry and myself in massive boulders of rocks and a cloud of thick dust. I wheezed and breathed into my robe sleeves and ignored the smell of slime infused with the fibers of the sleeve.

The focus on the light spell was shattered, and the darkness of the chamber gobbled up the chance to reclaim the area. Harry was coughing lightly too but reached over and helped me up. My stomach filled with dread. The entire way we came was blocked with a massive wall of collapsed ceiling. With Ron and Lockhart nowhere in sight. 

“Ron?” I screamed, wheezing on the dust. 

“Harry! Estelle!” Ron shouted out in terror. 

Harry and I ran to the rock wall and climbed it quickly, slipping on loose rocks a few times to get to the top where there was a small opening big enough to look through as the dust cleared. Only one of us could really look at a time. Harry was panting from beside me and looked through the space. 

“Ron! Ron! Are you okay?” Harry screamed into the gap unable to see anything due to the cloud of dust. It was thinning quickly. Soon we saw a terrified looking Ron, with a dazed Lockhart laying on a pile of rocks dazed. 

“I’m fine!” Ron nodded at us shakily.

It seemed Ron was in a state of shock. Lockhart let out a grunt and peered around in a smiling, dazed way. The two seemed to have a conversation I couldn’t hear from the other side of the rocks, but Ron looked appalled from the tiny crack over Harry’s shoulder. 

“Lockhart’s memory charm backfired. He hasn’t got a clue who he is!” Ron shouted to us in a tone of disbelief. They seemed to talk a moment more, before Ron gently took a rock from the mindless man, and socked him over the back of the head with it knocking him out cold. 

“Ouch,” I winced.

“What do I do now?” Ron panicked trying to see if he could see us. 

“You wait here and try and shift some of this rock so we can get back through. We’ll go on and find Ginny!” Harry ordered. 

“Okay!” Ron nodded quickly and started moving rocks out of the way immediately. 

Harry looked at me, and there was a long moment of silence. Neither of us knew what to expect deeper in the chamber, or if we were even capable of taking it on ourselves. Yet for Ginny’s sake, there was no choice but to try. 

I nodded firmly pushing away my fear, and raised my hands, “Leoht.” 

“Let’s go,” Harry muttered.

We quickly climbed down the rock wall, and rushed past the mostly crushed basilisk skin. The next time I saw the beast’s form the eyelids wouldn’t be empty. They would be ready to kill.

It was eerily quiet in the cave-like chamber, and the ball of light in my hands cast creepy shadows around us like we had fallen straight into the outside of hell. As it was a beach ball, I tossed the light from hand to hand nervously. The light flickered from the movement, and I forced myself to stop.

Soon we came up to a large vault like door covered in iron snakes, Harry hesitated for a second. This was the entrance. This was the Chamber of Secrets. History had forgotten it but the Chamber laid undetected deep, deep beneath the castle in wait to carry out the hateful revenge of Salazar Slytherin. Walking up to it felt like a prophecy being fulfilled. 

Harry walked directly up to the great vault door and hissed, “Hesha- Hassah.” 


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six: Tom Riddle

Soon we came up to a large vault like door covered in iron snakes. Harry hesitated for a second. This was the entrance. This was the Chamber of Secrets. History had forgotten it but the Chamber laid undetected deep, deep beneath the castle in wait to carry out the hateful revenge of Salazar Slytherin. Walking up to it felt like a prophecy being fulfilled. 

Harry walked directly up to the great vault door and hissed, “Hesha- Hassah.” 

A large snake coiled around the outer circle of the vault, making the inner snakes retract from it’s path successfully unlocking the door. Snake by snake, the cave echoed with a bang. After the last snake retreated, the door slowly swung partially open with a rusty wine. 

Immediately, I was slapped with aggressive, ancient magical energy. Every lungful of air stung like poison. A wave of bile rose in the back of my throat but I swallowed it thickly. Harry only turned to look at me when the orb of light flickered weakly before I forced myself to focus on anything but the energy coming from the chamber. It felt wrong. 

Harry looked at me, and I took my wand out of the holster keeping the ball of light aglow in the other hand. Shakily, I nodded and raised my wand, “For G-Ginny.” 

“You should go back. Help Ron with the cave in,” Harry ordered, “This is going to be dangerous.” 

“If you think I’m letting you go in there alone,” I stated, nudging him with my elbow, “You’re mad.” 

“Elle,” He breathed, “We don’t know what’s in there. You could get hurt.” 

“So could you,” I argued, “You’re the closest thing I have to a sibling. We’re going in there together. As a team.” 

It was admittedly a cheesy sentiment but the truthful statement visibly impacted Harry. Yes, Daphne and Astoria were basically my sisters but Harry understood what it felt like being a orphan created through murder. His eyes watered so lightly that it was almost undetectable. Slowly, a weak smile spread across his face, and I returned it. Harry didn’t vocally agree, but he nodded. It was a moment of warmth before we let ourselves plunge into the wicked darkness beyond the rusting door. 

“Let’s go. Remember to close your eyes if you see any movement,” Harry whispered, leading me over to stand in the opening of the monster sized entrance. 

Long strands of moldy growths hung from the tunnel, and was more slimy than any of the previous tunnels. Wands out and ready, we crept through the short tunnel hypersensitive to any movements or noise as the view of a long, dimly lit chamber came into sight. 

My school shoes hit the wet stone floor with a light splatter. I peered around the long chamber. There was a long stretch of black stone floor with pools of water dyed black from the overwhelming shadows. There was no saying how deep the pools of water went. You could smell the mildew festering in them. The orb in my hand was the only true source of bright light, but the twisted, towering pillars carved with serpents held dying touches that cast ominous shadows throughout the place. The light firelight reflected off the dark water casting everything in an eerie greenish gloom. 

My heart was pounding in my chest expecting the basilisk to jump out of one of the pools of water at any moment. The wand extended from my body was quivering. At the end of the chamber above a large pool of water was a massive carving of an older man that took up an entire wall. Under it was a small girl with flaming red hair that contrasted the green tint of the chamber in an almost taboo way. 

I gasped harshly and ran toward the pale looking girl with Harry hot on my heels, “Ginny! Ginny!” 

“Ginny!” Harry joined me as we nearly reached her. Our shoes slapped against the wet floor loudly. Everything echoed from the empty deadness of the place. 

Her body was still and didn’t react to our calls. Once I was close enough to her, I threw my body to the ground landing on my knees skidding across the ground painfully reopening the wound on one knee and creating one on the other. The throbbing of my knees was hardly noticeable. 

I quickly sheathed my wand to maintain the light and check her for injuries. There were no pools of blood oozing from her but she could be bleeding internally. All my focus was on her shallow breathing and icy cold skin. 

“Ginny,” I said, shaking her shoulder with one hand desperately and struggling to maintain our only light source in the other, not caring how my energy was starting to strain dangerously, “Please. You have to wake up. Ginny.” 

“Is she breathing?” Harry stressed from beside me and subconsciously whispered to himself, “Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.” 

“Barely,” I cried pulling her head into my lap clumsily with my open hand, and reached down to feel her pulse.

Jasper made Daphne and I attend basic emergency response classes the moment we were old enough in case Astoria ever needed help when it was just the three of us playing. My hands were shaky but I managed to find a faint beat vibrating against the lifeless, cold skin. The light was shaking from my terror induced tremors creating strange shadows that danced around the small area as if it was Ginny’s spirit leaking out of her and returning to the universe. My breathing was getting more and more distressed, “Her pulse. It’s weak. It’s really weak, Harry. She’s dying! We need to get her help.” 

Harry desperately leaned close to me and shook her shoulders a bit rougher, “Ginny! Wake up! Please, wake up!” 

Neither of us noticed the tall, handsome boy with dark hair in a Slytherin uniform emerge from the shadows until he spoke calmly, “She won’t wake.” 

His eyes were focused on Harry as he advanced toward us, but noticing the orb of light, he raised an eyebrow lightly. Slowly enough to inspire a shutter to slip from my lips, his eyes rolled across my body smirking when they came to rest on the orb once more. Harry’s quick breath halted from shock. 

I narrowed my eyes on the teenage boy feeling a similar sense of unease around him that I did around some of the darker minded individuals at pureblood events as well as something… twisted that I couldn’t place. As he inched closer to us, with perfect poise and posture I might add, I noticed something alarming. When you looked at the edges of his figure the light I was creating seemed to warp and blur around him. It was like peering at him through a ghost or a very convincing hologram spell. Everything in me screamed he was dangerous, especially from the cold, enthralled gleam in his eyes. 

“Tom? Tom Riddle!” Harry squinted his eyes, and shook his head in disbelief, “What do you mean, ‘she won’t wake?’ She’s not…?” 

He was walking faster to us and cut me off before I had a chance to speak. He was far too calm. The impossible appearance of the accuser of Hagrid was nearly next to us, “She’s still alive, but only just.”

Harry stood, leaving me on the ground with Ginny and the only real source of light that was starting to flicker dangerously. My mind couldn’t focus. My entire body was trembling from the twisted magic oozing from him. My shoulders lurched in an attempt to empty the content of my empty stomach. I’ve never had such a violent reaction like this. Everything inside me protested against the magic around him like a roaring, untamable fire. 

But my heart stopped for a moment when I realized what Tom was discreetly stepping toward. Harry was more focused on the actual figure in front of us to notice his wand was in danger and felt a sense of calm at the sight of the awarded student, “Are you a ghost?” 

“No,” I shook my head glaring at Tom suspiciously and pointedly eyed Harry’s wand attempting to silently communicate a warning to my friend, “Ghost feel different. This magic is... wrong.” 

“What an unexpected surprise,” Tom smirked at me and then cooly brought his attention back to Harry, who was clueless about the danger, “Your druid friend is correct. I’m a memory, preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

“Harry,” I said with more firmness than I ever had before not letting my eyes leave Tom and reminded Harry of the sickening magical aura infesting the chamber, “We need to leave. Now. Ginny needs a healer. We have to get her out of here before the Basilisk shows itself. It’s close, Harry. Grab your wand. We need to get her back to Ron and Lockhart.” 

He knew what I meant about knowing it was close and didn’t hesitate to kneel back beside us, and totally ignored my comment about the wand, “She’s cold as ice. Ginny, please don’t be dead. Wake up! You’ve got to help me, Tom. There’s a basilisk.”

“Don’t you dare,” I hissed at Tom but it was too late. He had leaned down and gracefully curled his long, pale fingers against the dark wood of Harry’s wand. 

“It won’t come until it’s called” Tom purred, twirling the wand to test the weight and feel of the magical channel in his grasp. Harry finally seemed to understand and cautiously rose back to his feet causally placing himself between Tom and us. 

“Give me my wand, Tom,” Harry ordered, extending his hand. Tom smirked and raised an eyebrow amused at the boy. ‘How could a wizard be foolish enough to leave his wand off to the side in the den of a dark wizard’s basilisk?’ He seemed to be pondering. 

“You won’t be needing it,” Tom’s cool, unbothered tone reminded me of Daphne and Jasper but there was nothing familiar or typical about it. It scared me.

The magical sensitivity from my bloodline felt more violent than ever before. More so than Gringotts. More violent than the stone circle near Hagrid’s Hut. More violent than when Norberta was born. More violent than the Acromantula nest. This was like a bleeding tear in the current swirling around the world. 

Harry was getting frustrated, and didn’t fully seem ready to grasp the clear threat of Tom because of his time travel journey and desperately motioned at the entrance behind us, “Listen, we’ve got to go! We’ve got to save her!” 

I slowly pulled out my wand, and let the light vanish. The rapid plunge into the dim, green lightly of the room made Tom’s eyes slide to me. My other hand pulled Ginny closer to me, and I didn’t break my eye contact with Tom, “Get away from that thing, Harry. It’s dangerous.” 

“Thing? Estelle, that’s Tom Rid-,” Harry frowned in confusion but was cut off by Tom smirking at me. 

Seeing the predatory flash across his face, I shouted, “Expell-!” 

Tom waved Harry’s wand and without using an incantation my wand was ripped from my tight hold and into his. His lips curled into a wicked smile when he brought the wand up to his face to inspect it, “Oak wood? Interesting.” 

“Tom, stop playing around,” Harry shook his head and despite his words it had clearly hit him that we were in danger and defenseless, “We’ve got to save Ginny. Now!” 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Harry. You see, as poor Ginny grows weaker, I grow stronger,” Tom drawled moving closer to Ginny sneering at her. 

I pulled her close enough to me that she was nearly sitting in my lap, and desperately scooted away from him letting the pool of water on the ground fully soak my filthy skirt and robe. The bruised, busted knees and countless scrapes along my legs stung from the dirty water. My blood bled into the water staining the moisture clinging to my skin a dark pink. My wand was barely visible in his pocket. I could only glare at him in terror. 

I met Harry’s gaze and understanding came to us in a synchronized jolt. Ginny….working with Tom? He tricked her with the diary. Manipulated her just like he’d done with Harry about Hagrid. 

“Yes Harry, it was Ginny Weasley who opened the Chamber of Secrets,” Tom sneered aggressively at Harry, never looking away from his eyes. Hate oozed from his tongue. 

“No,” Harry refused weakly, “She couldn’t. She wouldn’t!” 

“It was Ginny who set the basilisk on the Mudbloods and Filch’s cat. Ginny who wrote the threatening messages on the walls,” Tom’s lips curled into a sinister smile finding the intense emotions of Harry supremely pleasurable. 

“Why?” Harry shook his head, not believing it, glancing at the dying girl in my arms with the same scarlet hair of our best friend. We knew the Weasley family. They would never be involved in this. This was something from my world. 

“Dark magic. You had to-to have used dark magic against her,” I stammered feeling queasy under the gaze of Tom, whose smile grew, but quickly returned his focus to Harry. I was terrified of the solidifying memory.

“Because I told her to,” Tom stated with blunt simplicity, and added a slight edge to his charming, deep voice enthralled by the brilliant explanation of his plan, “You’ll find that I can be very persuasive. Not that she knew what she was doing. She was, shall we say, in a kind of trance. Still, the power of the diary began to scare her. And she tried to dispose of it in the girl’s bathroom.” 

"And then, who should find it, but you? The very person I was most anxious to meet,” Tom raised Harry’s wand to point to its owner now that the story involved him as if he was a teacher using a pointer stick. He was stalking like a hungry lion around Harry. Harry, defenseless but courageous, stepped closer to Tom rising to the challenge.

Harry’s voice was level but firm, “But, why did you want to meet me?” 

“I knew I had to talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my capture of that brainless oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust,” Tom and Harry were nearly chest to chest glaring at each other.

I was nearly entirely forgotten about, and if I was stronger I might have thought to carry Ginny to safety during the distraction. But it was clear that only breaking the bond between Tom and her could save her. All the potions and spells in the world couldn’t fix her waning soul. 

“Hagrid’s my friend! And you framed him, didn’t you?” Harry hissed hotly. 

Tom rolled his eyes, and laughed humorlessly, “It was my word against Hagrid’s. Only Dumbledore seemed to think he was innocent.” 

Harry smirked proudly, “I’ll bet Dumbledore saw right through you.”

Tom rolled his eyes and his mouth twisted in distaste of the man of modern legend, “He certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after that. I knew it wouldn’t be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school, so I decided to leave behind a diary preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages. So that one day I would be able to lead another to finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work.” 

“You’re mad,” I breathed wide eyed and brought Tom’s attention to me cradling Ginny’s body on the wet floor, “Ginny’s innocent. Let her go!” 

“Mad? Surely a Vaile would understand the importance of legacy,” Tom’s voice was chillingly level and my mouth dropped at the mention of my family name, “Surprised, girl? You made it too easy fumbling around with that spell you so clearly know nothing about. This wand of yours only proved my theory. Yes, Slytherin’s line will be victorious unlike yours. I shall finish his work after so many long years.” 

“Well, you haven’t finished it this time. In a few hours, the Mandrake Draught will be ready, and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again,” Harry smirked triumphantly at Tom. 

Tom looked ready to laugh, “Haven’t I told you? Killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore. For many months now, my new target… has been you.”

The hate had overwhelmed the detached, charming tones of Tom’s voice entirely. His lip twitched rapidly under the intense force of his repulsed frown, “How is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent was able to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

“Why do you care how I escaped?” Harry shook his head shockingly calm compared to me, and I felt my breath quickly getting shorter at the mention of my parent’s killer who nearly resurrected last year, “Voldemort was after your time.” 

“Voldemort is my past, present, and future,” Tom didn’t miss a beat and smiled wickedly. He turned and with Harry’s wand he wrote his full name, ‘TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE’, in the air in angry, fire-like letters. My entire body felt like it was a million miles away when, after promoted by the wave of Tom’s hand, rearranged to spell ‘I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.’ 

Harry was in a similar emotional state that I was, and managed to stumble out, “You! You’re the Heir of Slytherin. You’re Voldemort.” 

“Run, Harry! Get away from him,” I finally broke out of my shock and screamed shrilly. Harry flinched at the words, and Tom closed his eyes tightly breathing hotly for a millisecond. 

“Silence, Druid. I’ll deal with you later,” Tom waved the wand at me and invisible sharp, icy chains wrapped around my arms and legs, flinging Ginny to the ground from the force my limbs were snapped to my torso. A muffled noise came from my firmly sealed mouth, and I wiggled against the invisible restraints in an attempt to get to Ginny. Her face was facing the ceiling with closed eyes. She looked like a corpse lying peacefully at her funeral. 

Tom’s attention returned to Harry and raised his wand freezing Harry from running to us, “Surely, you didn’t think I was going to keep my filthy Muggle father’s name? No. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I became the greatest sorcerer in the world.”

“Albus Dumbledore is the greatest sorcerer in the world!” Harry’s spunk was limitless and fearless but it only angered the younger memory of Voldemort more and more. The rage was so intense I could almost see it with my bare eyes radiating out from the source. It was almost as suffocating as the magic oozing away from him and the Basilisk’s foreboding entrance into the scene. 

“Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” Tom laughed proudly. 

“He’ll never be gone! Not as long as those who remain are loyal to him!” Harry shouted passionately.

The two refused to break the heated glare. As if the overwhelming devotion to the headmaster had triggered something, a beautiful and spin tingling song burst through the chamber echoing in an unearthly way. It was so achingly familiar I might have clawed my ears off if it weren’t for the magical restraints digging into my body and creating thin rips in my uniform robes and throbbing cuts against the exposed skin of my legs. As haunting and maddening as it was, the song filled me with overwhelming joy and courage I’d never felt before.

With a burst, a ruby, golden feathered bird erupted into the chamber through an overhead opening crying out in an ear piercing call. The swan sized bird zoomed toward Harry and dropped a dark bundle of fabric into his hands. There was another sharp call while Fawkes gracefully turned around and retreated back into the ceiling hole. 

Harry unfolded the bundle faster than I’ve ever seen him move, and frowned. The Sorting Hat limply flopped between his fingers. There was no song, and no words of wisdom. The hat was totally devoid of all life, and was nothing more than an old threadbare hat. 

“So, this is what Dumbledore sends his great defender, a songbird and an old hat,” Tom sneered and turned toward the massive bust of his ancestor and raised his hand commandingly, “Shearhas- Samnathas- Sélithaeine.” 

The sound of rocks sliding against each other rumbled from the massive carving of Slytherin. The energy that burst forth from the slowly opening mouth was ancient, and deeply, deeply twisted. My vision blurred for a moment. There was too much taboo magical energy overwhelming my being to make sense of anything. 

“Let’s match the power of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Harry Potter,” Tom shouted arrogantly, and the mouth rumbled open more and more.

Harry ran up to me and tugged on the hood of my robes and the tugging made the invisible ropes dig into my flesh painfully drawing more blood. I shook my head at him desperately attempting to tell him to run. Harry stopped after a few seconds and turned his back to the opening mouth. 

“Estelle, Close your eyes,” Harry ordered rapidly looking around the room for an escape plan, “I’ll…deal with the basilisk. Just don’t open your eyes!” 

The last thing I saw before slamming my eyes closed was the massive tip of the Basilisk’s face, and a forked tongue flickering from it’s fanged mouth. Rapid splashing moving in the direction of the exit told me that Harry had fled the beast. Good, but now I was the closest snack for the being of great, twisted magical energy.

Tom hissed at the great snake slowly emerging from the shadowy mouth of the stone face, “Sethae- He- This. Parseltongue won’t save you now, Potter. It only obeys me!”

There was a great roar, and my body was splashed with a wave of water from something speeding past me. It was on the hunt for the boy fleeing from it. It was angry. The magical gag in my mouth forced me to swallow the large mouthful of bile erupting from my gut rejecting the overwhelming energy in the room. 

There was another growl but it was farther down the chamber. I heard Harry’s grunt following the sound of him tripping and slamming to the ground. My eyes opened before I could stop them. Harry, with tightly closed eyes, was at the mercy of the King of Snakes rearing its ugly head down preparing to crush Harry’s fragile human bone between it's killer jaws. Like a firework exploding in the sky, Fawkes blazed directly toward the monster and cried out angrily while attacking its face. The Basilisk roared in pain, unable to fight against the agile movement and sharp talons of Fawkes. 

“No!” Tom thundered beside me glaring at Harry, who got to his feet and ran from the chamber. Fawkes cried out and flew back out the chamber. The basilisk was flailing wildly, with blood oozing from it’s empty eye sockets. Tom shouted at Harry’s back, “Your bird may have blinded the basilisk, but it can still hear you!” 

Harry’s feet splashed against the wet floor loudly and the chase resumed. The chamber was deafeningly silent once the basilisk’s tail slithered out the large vault door after Harry. My eyes were wet with terrified tears and it dripped down my cheeks still heavy from baby fat. It was just Tom, Ginny and me left in the chamber now. Refusing to show the murderer of my parents any sign of cowardice, I weakly glared up at him with watery eyes. 

“And, you,” Tom sneered freeing my from the entrapping spell with the careless flick of his wrist, “Once your little friend, Harry Potter, is dead, I’m going to use every last drop of your blood to ascend back to what I was before, and then beyond it. It was the last question unanswered, you see. But Potter graciously hand delivered the exact magic I so desperately required. Clearly it is a sign of providence that today is the rebirth of my empire.” 

“Harry’s going to defeat your basilisk!” I glared, and rose to my feet to try my best to intimidate the way Harry had bravely stood before him earlier. Every inch of my body was visibly quivering, and risked plummeting from weak knees at any moment. My skin was on fire from the painful rope hex. My voice was soft, and shaky when I spoke next, “You murdered my parents. They wouldn’t help you and I-I won’t either.” 

Tom laughed humorlessly again, “Druids were smart. They made sure it was only someone born of their bloodline could access their power. Great spells that would make the empty headed wizards of today tremble at the mere idea. Modern books have the accounts of peace loving wizards protecting nature all wrong. They were ruthless in their protection, and had magic just as dark and twisted as their light magic rumored through history. Oh… didn’t know this, did you? Why do you think the Vaile family has produced so many dark witches and wizards? If you refuse to willingly restore my power, I have no hesitations to harness it by force.” 

My bottom lip quivered and I shook my head firmly, “N-no.” 

“You are a silly,” He paused and spat hatefully, “Weak girl. Your blood will be mine before Potter’s body grows cold.” 

“Estelle!” Harry shouted out to me running toward me from a small tunnel near the ear of Slytherin’s carving. 

Eager to get away from the dark wizard, I met him halfway hugging him tightly next to Ginny’s blue tinged body. There was no warmth left in her beside her flaming red hair panned around her head like a fiery halo. I pulled back, and we both threw ourselves down next to Ginny. My hands were violently shaking and it was hopeless to find a pulse as weak as hers but I tried.

“Yes, Potter, the process is nearly complete. In a few minutes Ginny will be dead, and I will cease to be a memory. Lord Voldemort will return very much alive!” Tom roared triumphantly.

“Ginny,” Harry said softly and desperately attempted shaking her once more. 

There was an explosion of water behind us, and we both jumped to our feet. My hand clutched my chest tightly backing away from the furious basilisk that had erupted from the deep looking pool in front of Slytherin’s stone likeness. Harry snatched the old sorting hat up from a nearby puddle of water, and withdrew a beautiful, bejeweled sword. He gripped the sword tightly in his fist and rushed to the side of the carving where the long layers of the beard were climbable. The sword clanged against the dry algae tinted stone while he climbed until he nearly stood on the head quivering. 

Roaring the basilisk attempted to capture Harry in it’s jaws, but Harry managed to jump out of the way by weakly dangling from the edge of one of the beard strands and quickly climbed to the very top of the statue to stare down the beast. Harry jumped out of the path of attacks with light agility. The tip of the sword was pointed at the mouth of the beast, and with a scream he slashed the snout of the Basilisk. 

In retaliation, it knocked Harry to the side of the head and the sword flew a bit away from him with a loud clang. It was about to slide off the edge and into the bottomless pool but Harry snatched it and with perfect timing sailed it directly into the roof of the basilisk’s mouth and through it’s brain. The beast screamed horribly and limply swung around in the air for a few seconds before crashing down to the ground dead. 

Harry, panting in pain, ripped one of it’s teeth from his arm, and weakly half climbed down, half fell where I was waiting. With an arm around his shoulder, I returned him to Ginny’s side clutching the tooth in horror. The bright red blood that covered the tooth stained my hand. Harry was too weak to support himself and laid beside Ginny glaring at Tom approaching us furiously. Setting the tooth to the side, I grabbed his bloody arm and shook my head wildly. 

“No! You can’t die, Harry!” I refused and screamed upward toward the ceiling in a cracking, desperate voice, “Fawkes! Fawkes! Please! We need you! Fawkes!”

“Remarkable isn’t it? How quickly the venom of the basilisk penetrates the body? I’d guess you have little more than a minute to live. You’ll be with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry.” Tom sneered and nodded at the black leather diary at Ginny’s side, “Funny, the damage a silly little book can do especially in the hands of a silly, little girl.” 

Harry, furious at his impending death, snatched the diary off the ground and opened it roughly. Tom, in a seemingly panicked voice, shook his head at Harry with the fang aimed above the diary, “What are you doing? Stop! No!” 

The moment Harry brought the fang down onto the diary a river of the blackest ink rushed from the penetration and golden light burst from Tom’s chest. His pained scream only encouraged Harry to plunge the tooth into the diary once more but the poison of the basilisk was weakening him. Not as much as the growing golden holes in Tom’s image though. Black ink was pooling around us and staining Ginny’s red hair. Placing my hand over Harry’s weakening grip, we raised it high above the diary and flipped to the cover before crashing it down onto it forcing a harrowing cry out of Tom’s almost entirely golden body until he burst into an explosion of magical energy. 

Harry crashed down to the ground in death’s hands at the exact moment all color returned to Ginny’s body with a deep gasp for air from her pale pink lips. Desperation overwhelmed me as I screamed out to the echoing chamber once more, “Fawkes! Fawkes! Please!” 

“Ginny,” Harry smiled comfortingly at the terrified girl trying to take everything around her from the chamber to the body of the giant basilisk to Harry’s weakening state to my own cries of panic. 

“Harry! Estelle! It was me but I swear I didn’t mean to! Riddle made me, and…,” Ginny froze, finally noticing the blood gushing from the hole in Harry’s arm, “Harry, you’re hurt!” 

“Fawkes!” I screamed with thick tears softening my scream. My voice cracked with desperation. 

“Don’t worry. Ginny, you need to get yourself out. Follow Estelle out the Chamber, and you’ll find Ron,” Harry shook his head trying his best to breathe through the pain, and then turned to me with a sad smile, “Estelle, it’s okay. I’m not-.” 

Before he could finish his sentence, the familiar battle cry of our red feathered warrior echoed into the chamber. Fawkes soared across the empty chamber and I held my arm out to Fawkes with tears of relief oozing out of my eyes. A small laugh even escaped my mouth. 

Fawkes settled on my extended arm and I carefully positioned him over Harry’s infected arm. Despite the hiss of pain when I grabbed the stab wound to bring it closer to Fawkes, a small, unaware smile graced Harry’s face.

He was ready to let death take him and weakly pet Fawkes’ ruby feathers, “You were brilliant, Fawkes. I just wasn’t quick enough.” 

Fawkes cooed and a few pearl shaped droplets fell from his black eyes and landed on Harry’s arm with a sizzle. Each teardrop healed the wound, and returned life to Harry. When the wound was merely a memory, I let go of Harry’s bloody arm and cooed scratching Fawkes’ neck, “Nature’s most magical healer. You’re our hero, Fawkes. Thank you.” 

“Dumbledore told me Phoenix tears have healing powers! Of course!” Harry’s face lit up in a beaming smile. 

“You did it Harry,” I squeezed his shoulder lovingly, like the sister his parents never got to have, and he smiled back, like the brother my parents were similarly robbed from, and hugged me tightly, “What would Hogwarts do without you?” 

Ginny was still shaken and wouldn’t stop snapping her head around the room looking for something hiding in the shadows. I smiled at her and said softly, “It’s over. Nothing more than a memory. He’s gone.” 

“It’s all right,” Harry smiled and held up the tattered diary, “Riddle’s finished. Look! Him and the basilisk. C’mon, Ginny, Let’s get out of here. Ron’s waiting just outside. Everyone’s worried about you.” 

“I’m going to be expelled!” Ginny wept as we helped her to her feet and down toward the entrance, “I’ve looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I’ll have to leave and- W-What will Mum and Dad say?” 

Neither Harry or I was sure if she would get expelled honestly. But I couldn’t just let Ginny sob. So I wrapped the arm that Fawkes wasn’t perched on around her shoulder and shook my head, “Your family is only going to be happy you’re okay. You’ll see. Ron’s right over here.” 

While walking through the eerie cave-like tunnels toward the cave in, Fawkes moved to my shoulder, and was careful enough to make sure his talons didn’t sink into my skin. Ginny was sobbing, while Harry and I did our best to comfort her. I don’t think anyone could go through what she did and not sob this heavily to be fair. I would be too. 

Soon the sound of slowly moving rocks faintly met our ears over Ginny’s hyperventilating cries. Harry breathed a thick sigh of relief and rushed down the tunnel screaming, “Ron! Ginny’s okay! We’ve got her!”

There was a beat of silence as Ginny and I caught up to Harry but a strangled cheer sprang out from a medium sized gap in the rocks followed by Ron’s relieved face peeking at it. His eyes looked at Ginny like Snape had walked up to him and told him that he made a perfect potion. 

The smile couldn’t be contained, and his eyes got a little wet, “Ginny! You’re alive! I don’t believe it! What happened? How-What- Where did that bird come from?” 

In response to his question, Fawkes lifted from my shoulders and shot through the gap in the rocks over Ron’s head. I smiled wistfully at the beautiful creature, “That’s Fawkes. He saved us. Isn’t he beautiful?” 

“He’s Dumbledore’s,” Harry added climbing through the gap, with Ginny quickly behind. 

As I crawled through, Ginny was swept into a tight hug from her older brother. At last, her tears seemed to slow with her arms wrapped tightly around Ron. Our red haired pal pulled out of the hug and gaped at the blood coated sword at Harry’s side. The blood was darkening as it started to dry. 

“How come you’ve got a sword?” Ron breathed, “What the bloody hell happened?” 

“Um, later,” Harry shook his head glancing at poor Ginny, who looked overwhelmed with the guilt dominating her thoughts. 

“Where’s Lockhart?” I quickly changed the subject. 

“Back there,” Ron sighed tiredly, “He’s in a bad way. Come and see.”

“Leoht,” I cast holding up my hands to make sure no one tripped over one of the fallen rocks. Ginny looked at it wide eyed but quickly returned to crying next to Ron. We followed Ron, with Fawkes settled back on my shoulder, to the pipes leading out the Chamber.

There was a faint, dazed humming. Lockhart was sitting on the edge of the pipe, uncaring about the sludge staining his pink robes further, and was tossing a pebble up into the air in tune with his humming. His feet swung from the edge occasionally kicking some of the rat bones covering the floor. 

He smiled up at us, and waved ditsy, “Hello.” 

“His memory’s gone,” Ron shook his head nudging our old professor onto the bed of bones so we could get out of the pipe, “The Memory Charm backfired! Hit him instead of us. Hasn’t got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He’s a danger to himself.” 

“So! It must be you three that live here,” Lockhart smiled at Ginny, Harry and I brightly and then grimaced at the bones under his feet shifting his weight nervously, “A bit dirty, isn’t it?” 

“No,” Ron shook his head and looked at Harry and I meaningfully.

“Professor,” I grimace looking him over, “How are you feeling?” 

“Professor!” He chortled amused before stroking his chin, “Bit of a headache but otherwise dandy.” 

He’s lost it. In the next twenty four hours, He’ll be in St. Mungos for sure. I wonder what his fans were going to do. Selfishly, I couldn’t wait to spread word among pureblood summer events about his fraudulence. Everything awful, and disgraceful done in his life directly led to him ruining himself. 

Harry peered up at the long, dark pipe we had fallen down, and frowned, “Has anyone thought about how we’re going to get back up this?” 

Fawkes fluttered from my shoulder and presented it’s leg to Harry. Giggling lightly, I smiled, “Fawkes, of course! He can carry us up!” 

“He looks like he wants you to grab hold…,” Ron trailed off perplexed, “But you’re much too heavy for a bird to pull up there-.” 

“Fawkes,” Harry beamed, “Isn’t an ordinary bird. Ginny, grab Ron’s hand. Professor Lockhart-.” 

“He means you,” Ron glared at the dazed man who snapped to attention, somewhat. 

“You can grab Ginny’s other hand,” Harry nodded tucking the sword into his uniform belt, and grabbed my hand, while Ron grabbed my other, pausing to rub his hand on his pants to get rid of the sweat from moving the rocks.

“Professor Lockhart,” I winced, “Don’t let go. Promise?” 

The man nodded eagerly making his curls flop around his face. Harry’s hand grabbed the leg being presented to him and bubbled from my mouth with the wind whipping my hair, long free from the ribbon, around my dirty, scuffed up face. The red ribbon would never leave the Chamber of Secrets. Below me, Lockhart cried out in cheers. 

“Amazing! This is just like magic!” Lockhart cried. 

But all too soon it was over, and Fawkes set us down on Moaning Myrtle's bathroom’s cool tile gently with a soft cry. I patted my shoulder, hoping for a few more moments with the beautiful creature, and Fawkes settled onto it again. Moaning Myrtle was quick to see what happened. 

She sighed in disappointment, frowning at Harry, “You’re alive.” 

“There’s no need to sound so disappointed,” He said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his circular lenses. 

I wrinkled my nose and turned to glance in the mirror. I looked terrible. My legs were covered in slime, blood, dried black ink, and filthy water. The skin of both of my knees was split open with angry looking, raw scrapes surrounded with fresh and dried blood. Every time I moved they reopened. There was a smear of Harry’s blood from my hand across my left cheek, and a very large cut stretching through my right eyebrow. Tiny, shallow cuts were scattered across any exposed skin. The magical binds from Riddle had created a thin band of slashed uniform on my torso, and a thin ring of cut skin on the area above my knees. We all smelled as vile as we looked, and those that went into the inner chamber had water dripping from our clothes and black ink staining our skin and clothes. 

“Oh, well,” Moaning Myrtle sighed blushing silver and added before flying into the ceiling, “I’d just been thinking if you had died, you’d have been welcome to share my toilet.” 

“Not us though,” Ron muttered to me, finally responding to my attempt at banter before we entered the chamber. 

“Well, we can’t all be the boy who lived,” I snickered before nodding to the door, “We should tell everyone Ginny's safe before they shut down the school.” 

“Ugh!” Ron scoffed as we were leaving and smirked at his quivering sibling in an attempt to lighten the mood, “Harry! I think Myrtle’s grown fond of you! You’ve got competition, Ginny!” 

Fawkes lifted from my shoulder, with a shimmer of golden and red feathers and flew ahead of us slowly to lead us somewhere. Tears were flooding down silently from Ginny’s face, and I shook my head at Ron’s jest. Boys could be so clueless. He did mean well though. You could tell from the way he couldn’t stop glancing over at her from in front of us.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and whispered as we followed the boys and Lockhart, who was in awe at the castle, “It’s going to be okay. No one was hurt, Gin. The mandrakes are going to be ready by the weekend. I’d know. Cedric Diggory, Margret Brown and I have had to stop four different plants from moving into their neighbor’s pots just in the past day. No harm done, alright?” 

“Y-you think so?” Ginny, still whispering, cried leaning into my shoulder slightly and rubbed her watery eyes, “But I-.” 

“Was taking advantage of,” I cut her off soothingly as possible, “We’re just kids. Older people than you have been tricked with less than an enchanted diary. You just wanted someone to talk to. I can understand that, too.” 

“Yeah?” Ginny sniffed. 

We had come up to McGonagall’s office and stood outside the door, where soft sobbing was being muffled from the thick wood. Harry glanced at Ginny nervously and then to me. We both knew it was Ginny who had been working with Voldemort. There was really a strong chance they would punish her despite what I was saying to her in comfort. I nodded weakly, as the adrenaline faded leaving me with an incredibly sore body covered in throbbing, stinging cuts and scrapes. I could almost feel the filth and slime of the disgusting chamber infecting the broken skin with each passing second. 

“Yes,” I numbly nodded to Ginny and let down my arm from her shoulders as Harry slowly opened the door. I frowned at her flinch and gave her hand a light squeeze, “I’ll be right here. It’s going to be okay.” 


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Aftermath

The five of us entered McGonagall’s office and nearly dropped our jaws. Fawkes flew in first with a bold cry and looped around the room once before landing on Dumbledore’s shoulder. He stood near the fireplace, beaming at his students, next to McGonagall, who was staring at her bloody, grimy students with horror clutching her chest to calm her great wheezes. Across from them was Molly Weasley tucked into an armchair surrounded by large piles of wadded up tissues, and her white-faced husband gripping the chair for support. 

There was a moment of silence before Molly Weasley screamed, and ran toward the shaking girl beside me, “Ginny!” 

Mr. Weasley was shortly behind his wife, and the three redheads clung to each other for a few seconds. Molly pulled from the hug first, leaving Ginny tightly latched to her father’s side. Ron’s mother looked at the three of us and darted between us, overwhelmed with thoughts.

With a fierce amount of love, she gathered the three of us in her arms and wetly cried, “You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?” 

“I think we’d all like to know that,” McGonagall nodded weakly. 

Ron looked at Harry and me wondering the same thing. Silence consumed the office while Harry and I communicated with a heavy, long look. I shook my head, unsure of how to start. Harry, with the sword still tucked into his belt, walked up to the large neat desk and placed the Sorting Hat, the ruby embossed sword covered in dark blood, and the stabbed ink-stained diary tensely without a word. 

“I guess we should start at the beginning,” I weakly nodded, glancing at Harry who agreed, “It was Halloween. The first time I felt sick.” 

“It was the first time I heard the voice, too,” Harry added, launching us headfirst into the story with Ron and me helping layout the unfolding of the year while the adults listened in rapt silence.

We told them everything. We told them about how Harry was hearing a voice, how I felt sick before the attacks, how Hermione had figured out that Harry was hearing a Basilisk which set off my Druid senses as a wizard made beast; how Harry, Ron, and I followed the spiders into the forest, that Aragog had told us about the last victim had died; how Harry connected it to Moaning Myrtle, and the entrance was in her very bathroom the entire time. 

“Very well,” Professor McGonagall halted her students, “So you found out where the entrance was, breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add- but how on earth did you all get out of there alive?”

“We almost didn’t,” I breathed, flinching as Riddle’s face flashed in my mind when he was hungrily talking about my blood, “But Fawkes… saved us.” 

Harry picked up where I left off, hearing the weakness in my voice. They all listened in the same apt silence as before as he told them all about Fawkes’ perfect timing, the sword appearing from the hat, and then trailed off, glancing at the diary and then Ginny. She was crying heavily while silently clutching her mother’s arm. I walked up next to Harry, and we both were in a panic. Ginny didn’t deserve expulsion. We both had a firsthand experience of just how tricky Riddle was. Even with the venomous way he spoke to us, the charm and manipulation of the wicked man oozed from him like no one I’d ever seen before. Slowly, we both looked at Dumbledore, smiling at us in the firelight. 

“What interests me most,” said Dumbledore delicately, “Is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forest of Albania.”

Harry and I both visibly relaxed at the relieving statement. Thank Merlin. The tightness of my lungs unclenched and the smell of the fireplace and the tidy office filled my lungs with a rush. Ginny’s eyes grew wide, and for a quick second, even the tears seemed to freeze on her face in their slow drip down her filthy cheeks. 

“W-what’s that?” Mr. Weasley stammered, rushing closer to his daughter placing a gentle arm on her wet uniformed shoulder protectively, “You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny’s not…Ginny hasn’t been…Has she?” 

“It’s not her fault,” I was quick to voice my opinion, “He tricked her. She didn’t know.” 

“It was this diary,” Harry explained, picking up the battered diary and bringing it to Dumbledore, “Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen…” 

I softly gagged at the energy oozing from the diary in broken pangs and desperately reached into the zipped pocket of the inside of my robes and ripped the Vaile amulet around my neck. Even after being stabbed with the colossal fang, the energy surrounding the diary felt twisted and sickening. The metal of the chain against my skin was cool and soothing. Sighing in relief at the instant muffling of the raging magical energy of Hogwarts and the diary, I watched Dumbledore take the diary from Harry and peer at the burnt and ink sodden pages. My fingers fiddled with the amulet nervously. 

“Brilliant,” He breathed, “Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen since your own many great grandfather, Ms. Vaile. Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school, traveled far and wide, sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the handsome, clever boy who was once Head Boy here.” 

“But, Ginny!” Mrs. Weasley cried, pulling Ginny into her side tighter, “What’s our Ginny got to do with- with him?” 

“His diary!” Ginny sobbed, “I’ve been writing in it, and he’s been writing back all year-.” 

“Ginny!” Mr. Weasley said in horror, “Haven’t I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps it’s brain. Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that! It was clearly full of dark magic-.” 

“I d-didn’t know,” sobbed Ginny, and I shifted uncomfortably hoping Mr. Weasley wasn’t about to disown her and kick her from their home, “I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it-.” 

“Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away,” Dumbledore gently cut off the girl and smiled at her parents whose anger instantly melted from them at the mention of the medical wing and frantically started looking over her for injury, “This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort.” 

Dumbledore walked over to the door, opened it with a gesture to the group, and smiled down at Ginny with a caring wink, “Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up,-” He rose back to full height and addressed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, “You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She’s just giving out the Mandrake juice. I daresay the basilisk’s victims will wake by this time tomorrow!” 

“So, Hermione’s okay!” Ron’s smile brightened his entire battered appearance instantly. 

Harry and I were in a similar state, but wet and covered in blood and ink. Merlin, Hermione was going to be overwhelmed with everything that's happened. How would we even begin to tell her? 

As her parents led her out the door fussing over her and soothingly whispering to her, Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and offered her a sense of reassurance, “There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny.” 

“But one of us seems to be keeping mighty quiet about his part in the dangerous adventure. Why so modest, Gilderoy?” Dumbledore asked peering at the dazed man with a frown.

Lockhart was in the corner of the room smiling around in a mentally vacant way and slowly turned to the man who dressed him. His fingers were dancing along the spines of McGonagall’s bookcase, not reading the titles but rather enjoying the bumpy rhythm against his fingertips. 

“Professor Dumbledore,” Ron rushed to explain, grimacing at the professor in the corner, “There was an accident down in The Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart-.” 

“Am I a professor?” Lockhart beamed turning away from the bookshelf but frowned in an amused afterthought, “Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?” 

“You… never killed any of your students,” I winced feeling pity toward the amnesia-stricken man but remembered that Neville could have easily snapped his neck when the pixies hung him from the ceiling and added in a whispered awe to myself, “Luckily.” 

Ron just shook his head at the man angrily and turned back to Dumbledore, “He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired!” 

“Dear me,” Dumbledore mused, “Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!”

“Sword?” Lockhart cocked his head furrowing his brows together and then pointed at Harry, “Haven’t got a sword. That boy has, though. He’ll lend you one.” 

“Minevera, perhaps Pomfrey should look him over,” Dumbledore frowned at McGonagall. She nodded, clearly amused at the turn of events. 

The Headmaster, still standing in the doorway, added to the emerald robbed woman gently steering Lockhart from the room, “You know, Minerva. I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?” 

“Right,” McGonagall nodded glancing at the slimy students from her house in the doorway, “I’ll leave you to deal with Vaile, Potter, and Weasley, shall I?” 

“Certainly,” Dumbledore nodded and turned to us holding up the diary, “Let’s finish our talk in my office. If you do not mind grabbing the remaining items on the desk?” 

Ron was quick to grab the sword, with a wicked smirk, and Harry grabbed the Sorting Hat. I just fiddled with the chain of my amulet forcing the memory of Riddle from my head as best as I could manage as we trailed behind our headmaster in silence. There were a few looks of panic exchanged between us. The sound of the water dripping off Harry and I’s robes was the only sound. It felt like years had passed when we finally rose to the office in the stairs. 

We stood before his desk, shifting awkwardly and looking at our feet, with the objects from the night piled delicately on top of the desk. Dumbledore waved his hand, and my robes were dried instantly. They were stiff and smelly from the filth and slime soaked into the fabric but it was better than it clinging to my skin. 

We silently lined up in front of his desk waiting for him to speak once more while he quickly wrote a letter, and sealed and addressed it placing it to the side. It must have been more than fifteen minutes since we last saw Ron’s family. The sting of my injuries was starting to throb with an angry rhythm. It was easier to think about the various infections seeping into my skin by the second than what my Uncle was going to say the moment he caught wind of this. This is so, so, so far from the notion of no news is good news. 

“You all realize, of course, that in the past few hours you have broken perhaps a dozen school rules?” Dumbledore slowly asked us.

Uncle Jasper’s furious lecture when I returned last year after assisting in the rescue of the stone gnawed in my head furiously. The taste of my lips was disgusting but I was helpless against my anxiety to stop myself from gnashing my teeth into them. 

“Yes, sir,” We coursed as one fearful entity. 

My heart was pounding in my chest. Uncle Jasper was going to kill me. Maybe I should send Hermione home with Bernard in case he gets rid of him like the others. Hagrid could always watch him. The idea of summer without him to quell my anxieties was nearly as frightful as the knowledge that Uncle Jasper would learn of my actions today. 

“And there is sufficient evidence to have you all expelled?” Dumbledore reminded us, and my shoulders sagged down in miserable acceptance. At least Ginny’s alive. 

“Yes, sir,” We frowned in unison. 

All three of our heads were staring at the ground in defeat. My grey socks were basically black. There were small cuts around the edge of the sock with freshly formed scabs. 

"Therefore, it is only fitting, that you all receive Special Awards for Services to the School,” Dumbledore smiled merrily making all of our faces look up from the ground with massive grins and sighs of relief.

I made eye contact with the boys and grinned from ear to ear. A special award? Surely, Uncle Jasper would be proud. So few students ever receive those. It’s one of the highest honors you can achieve as a student. Maybe this will make him love me once more. 

“Thanks, sir,” Ron breathed happily. Dumbledore nodded at the redhead, with deep wrinkles forming from his own smile. 

“And now, Mr. Weasley, if you would, have an owl deliver these release papers to Azkaban? I believe we want our gamekeeper back,” Dumbledore rose and passed the letter to my ginger-haired friend. 

Ron nodded empowered by his new achievement and bolted from the room. Hagrid needed to get out of a place like Azkaban as quickly as possible. He was too kind, and warm to not be the biggest feast for the dementors. All the chapters on those creatures I’ve read were difficult to get through. I’m sure if it wasn’t for the dreamless sleep potions my childhood dreams would have been plagued with dementors. 

“Harry, Estelle,” Dumbledore smiled to us walking over to the both of us, “You both must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you. Estelle, you are so much like your father. And, second, I sense that something is troubling you. Am I right, Harry?” 

Harry glanced at me and hesitated a moment clearly feeling uncomfortable to discuss this in front of me but after a kind smile from me, nodded at Dumbledore, "It’s just… You see, sir I- I couldn’t help but notice certain things, certain- certain similarities, between Tom Riddle and me.” 

“I see. Well, you can speak Parseltongue, Harry. Why? Because Lord Voldemort can speak Parseltongue. If I’m not mistaken, Harry, he transferred some of his powers to you the night he gave you that scar,” Dumbledore replied and I couldn’t help but let my jaw drop a little. 

Harry looked at me in horror quickly before responding. Voldemort...gave some of his powers to Harry? How could that be possible? Was he so determined to kill Harry to reclaim those powers? I always assumed it was to clean his shamed reputation that a mere baby was able to defeat him at the peak of his power. 

"Voldemort transferred some of his powers… to me?” Harry gasped up at Dumbledore mentally refusing to accept it. 

Dumbledore nodded and then cocked his head moving to stand behind his desk, “Not intentionally, but yes.” 

“So the Sorting Hat was right! I should be in Slytherin,” Harry frowned looking at the limp hat on the desk.

Harry…was almost in Slytherin? Why didn’t he ever tell me? Perhaps he didn’t want to rub it in my face that he could have so easily been the exact student that my family so desperately wanted out of me. Or it was because he didn’t want anyone knowing he was almost sorted into what is considered the home of budding evil and malicious witches and wizards. 

“It’s true, Harry. You possess many of the qualities that Voldemort himself prizes. Determination, resourcefulness, and if I may say so, a certain disregard for the rules. Why then did the Sorting Hat place you in Gryffindor?” Dumbledore prompted Harry now sitting in his great leather chair. 

Harry frowned and responded simply, “Because I asked it to.” 

“Exactly, Harry! Exactly! Which makes you different from Voldemort,” Dumbledore smiled and pointed his finger at Harry to reinforce the statement. 

“Pardon for interrupting, Sir,” I spoke up for the first time flushing slightly when they looked at me but I had to know the question that’s been nagging at me for so long, “I didn’t ask to be in Gryffindor. I asked to be placed into Slytherin but the hat didn’t listen to me like Harry.” 

“Yes. Well,” Dumbledore peered at me with a soft smile, “Were you truly asking to be placed in Slytherin because you wanted it for yourself, or were you asking for the sake of your family’s will?” 

“My family,” I frowned but shook my head, “I just don’t understand Gryffindor though, sir. The hat said I needed to be brave, not that I am brave. My entire family thinks I’m the biggest coward they know. It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“You are in Professor Sprout’s Herbology club, correct?” Dumbledore asked, and I nodded, “You should know better than most the environment in which a plant takes root determines how beautifully it will bloom. Perhaps the Sorting Hat saw which house would be the best soil for you to fully blossom. You have shown remarkable courage and love since arriving at Hogwarts, Estelle. You both have. It is not our abilities that show what we truly are. It is our choices. If you want proof why you belong in Gryffindor, Harry, then I suggest that you look more closely at this. Be careful.” 

Dumbledore gestured at the bloody sword, and Harry walked forward and slowly raised it to eye level, with me just behind him. The silver metal glimmered in the light but under the blood, you could clearly see a name carved into the blade. Harry gasped lightly, “Godric Gryffindor.” 

“It would take a true Gryffindor to pull that out of the hat,” Dumbledore smiled at us warmly. 

Harry looked over his shoulder at me, with a smile that stretched from ear to ear filled with contagious warmth, and nodded at me. We both belonged in Gryffindor. Even if I didn’t pull the sword out of the hat, I felt it. I had blossomed since the first day I wore this red tie. Dumbledore’s statement about choices defining us echoed in my head. My family doesn’t and won’t ever define who I am further than I let them. For the first time in my life, the power of my family didn’t feel so impossible to escape from. 

All the warmth shriveled up like a paper thrown into a fire when the office door opened with a bang, and I saw the two men standing in the doorway. Subconsciously my hand latched onto the back of Harry’s robes at the first sight of my Uncle Jasper frowning behind Lucius. His eyes widened at the sight of my bloody face for the briefest of seconds before slipping back into his unreadable expression. Uncle Jasper had no clue it wasn’t my blood and wouldn’t look away from the scarlet smear across my pale skin. Dobby peeked out from behind Lucius’ tailor robe and quivered. My Uncle slipped between Lucious and the bookshelf beside the door and rushed to me without wavering in his expression. All my muscles tensed and Harry moved to stand in front of me. 

“Dobby?” Harry breathed with his mouth hanging open slightly. 

So, it was the very same Dobby I grew up with. All those thoughts insisting the Malfoys had nothing to do with this tragedy consuming the school was in false confidence. Draco wasn’t the heir but his father was clearly wrapped up in whatever had happened. 

The sight of my Uncle getting closer forced my feet to pace backward quickly until Dumbledore rose from his seat and, discreetly, raised his hand in my direction to still me. Not magically, but the gesture was as if he was telling me not to worry because he was still there. It had little influence over my pounding heartbeat rattling against my ribs. 

Uncle Jasper’s green eyes were locked on me ignoring everything in the room, even the legendary wizard he had so many conflicting opinions about. Most days he wouldn’t hesitate to slander the headmaster but on rare occasions, he admitted the magnificent things Albus Dumbledore was capable of. 

“So this is your master! The family you serve is the Malfoys,” Harry stated wide-eyed at the quivering elf. Lucius frowned at the statement and glared at Dobby. The little elf raised his arms in terror fletching away from the man expecting one of the beatings I’d seen too many times at their manor. 

“I’ll deal with you later,” Lucius seethed at Dobby and then climbed up the stairs with my Uncle and Dobby behind him. 

Uncle Jasper walked up to me and frowned deeply slowly looking at each of my injuries, disheveled hair, and grotesque robes. The smell alone should have been enough to make him wrinkle his nose in disgust but I think his expression was almost horrified. My entire body was quivering, much like Dobby’s was. For the millionth time in my life, I wished so desperately to have the ability to see past the unwavering mask of Uncle Jasper.

Lucius raised his staff and pushed Harry out of the way with it, “Out of my way, Potter.” 

Standing before Dumbledore’s desk, Lucius sneered, “So, it’s true. You have returned!” 

“Your Head of House wrote and I was here as quickly as possible. We returned from America last night. I shouldn’t be away from Astoria,” Jasper whispered to me, raising a light grey colored gloved hand to my blood-stained cheek, “Are you in need of a healer? I can have you seen by the finest healers with the snap of my fingers.” 

“It’s not my blood. Thank you, Uncle Jasper,” I explained stiffly, and Jasper nodded just as uncomfortably unsure of how to act in this situation as I was.

His glove pulled away from my face, with a light smudge of deep red against the leather. Slowly he reached into his dark purple robes and pulled out a large green handkerchief to clean it off. 

There were so many conflicting emotions swirling around us. Everything in me wanted to throw myself into his arms and cry until Riddle’s face stopped intrusively forcing itself to the front of my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking of the helpless way he so effortlessly trapped me or the things he said about my blood. The terror crackled each time I lost the battle against my subconscious focus on the villainous man. Even with all the surrounding distractions, Riddle’s face was etched into my stream of consciousness-like the impossible to remove messages written in blood on the Hogwarts walls. Harry was staring at Jasper with a heated glare, barely able to hold his tongue but turned back to the middle of the room when Dumbledore spoke again. 

“I-,” Uncle Jasper began but halted himself abruptly and stiffened his posture. 

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as perplexed as this in my entire life. There was anger there, I could tell that much. Rage. Fury. Humiliation. But something else was brewing deep within him as well. 

“When the governors learned that Arthur Weasley’s daughter was taken into the Chamber, they saw fit to summon me back,” Dumbledore explained to Lucius glancing in the direction of Harry, my Uncle, and myself. 

“Ridiculous!” Lucius spat enraged.

I don’t know if he realized it or not but my Uncle subtly moved to stand in front of me as the tensions rose in the office. His eyes were narrowed at Dumbledore clearly in agreement with his good friend that the old man was unfit to govern the school. Jasper was offered a position on the board, but between Astoria, his other dependents, his work in the department of mysteries and being one of the heirs of the family business he was simply too busy. The Greengrass family was, after all, a great wizarding family and had attended Hogwarts for centuries on the English side. 

“Curiously, Lucius, several of them were under the impression that you would curse their families, if they did not agree to suspend me in the first place,” Dumbledore noted without ever wavering in his calm tone. 

Lucius made a show of scoffing at the suggestion, “How dare you!” 

“I beg your pardon?” Dumbledore slightly raised and peered at the blonde man through his half-moon spectacles. 

“My sole concern has always been, and will always be, the welfare of this school and, of course, its students,” Lucius sneered hotly glancing at Harry and I, “The culprit has been identified, I presume?”

“Oh, yes,” Dumbledore nodded shortly. Lucius was nearly shaking with frustration at the man. 

“And? Who was it?” Lucius demanded. 

My Uncle stepped forward a bit this time, and far from the delivery of his close friend nodded in a cold but stiffly polite tone slowly enunciating each word, “As my niece was one of the students involved, I would also like to know this information, Headmaster. It is my undeniable right as her guardian to know the exact identity of the witch or wizard that nearly killed her. I demand answers for this and I’m positive the Minister of Magic, a good friend of mine, would agree. ” 

“Voldemort.” Dumbledore, notably to my uncle and not Lucius, responded with a small bow of his head. 

“Ah,” Lucius shortly nodded, massively less antagonistic.

“Pardon?” Jasper’s eyebrows twitched, barely able to keep up with his fury, “It is a poor time to jest with me, Dumbledore. I would not advise it. This is the second year my goddaughter has nearly perished under your watch.” 

“Only, this time, he chose to act through somebody else, by means of this,” Dumbledore presented the diary to Lucius who paled visibly and swallowed thickly. 

Uncle Jasper left my side and peered down at the diary. His purple robes, with black detailing, reflected the light of the office as he moved with catlike grace. It wasn’t hard to see, objectively, why so many pureblood women fawned over my widowed uncle. He overwhelmed rooms with Greengrass beauty. 

“May I?” He inquired to the bearded man, who nodded after a moment.

Jasper was rapidly spinning the diary around in his hands to look at it from all angles. His green eyes narrowed and raised it closer to a candle light transfixed by the questions racing in his head. Delicately running his fingers along the fang, he shook his head. It was more than obvious he would be going home and dedicating his spare time to the object and it’s mysteries. 

“Fortunately, our young Mr. Potter and Ms. Vaile discovered it. One hopes that no more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things should find their way into innocent hands. The consequences for the one responsible would be severe,” Dumbledore said pointedly boldly locking Lucius in a staredown. 

The undeniable insinuation in Dumbledore’s statement was enough that Uncle Jasper slowed in his search of the diary and glanced at his friend with a tiny, silent frown. Lucius pointedly ignored my Uncle, who placed the dairy back onto the desk gently and sneered at Harry hotly. 

“Well, let us hope that Mr. Potter will always be around to save the day,” He glared, ignoring my involvement in the manner. 

Harry took a step forward and glared back fearlessly, “Don’t worry. I will be.” 

“Dumbledore. Jasper, I’ll speak with you soon,” Lucius nodded at my Uncle who didn’t respond save a small nod, and hit Dobby with his walking stick, “Come, Dobby. We’re leaving.” 

When the duo neared the stairs, Lucius full of enraged frustration kicked Dobby hard enough that he soared over the stairs and landed roughly at the end of the office with a scream of pain. I covered my mouth with my hand in horror. Uncle Jasper tutted in disapproval at the ill mannerisms of his friend but turned to walk over to me again. Lucius slammed the door on the way out loudly. 

Uncle Jasper placed both gloved hands on my shoulders using a tight grip and looked down at me with a thick look making his Adam’s apple bob. My head swarmed lightheaded fearing the worst from the unreadable expression. Behind us, Harry approached the desk and pointed at the diary. 

“Sir, I wonder if I could have that?” Harry asked, glancing back at the door.

Dumbledore nodded, with a mischievous half-smile, and Harry ran from the room leaving me alone with Jasper and Dumbledore in silence. Jasper’s large, tall frame made it difficult to meet Harry’s eyes when he glanced over at me. Now that it was just the three of us, Dumbledore slowly sat back down in his chair and adjusted his scarlet velvet robes. 

“Thank you for arriving post haste, Mr. Vaile,” Dumbledore addressed my uncle who turned around and nodded stiffly, “I understand you have been in America since last summer because of your youngest daughter. Astoria, yes?” 

“Yes,” Jasper nodded coldly yet in a forced polite manner as Greengrasses are known to be painfully polite, “Unfortunately, she was born with the blood malediction cursing the Greengrass family. The treatments were a great success and she will be able to attend Hogwarts next term as planned.” 

“How wonderful. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I want you to know we are more than happy to make any accommodations for Astoria,” Dumbledore smiled, “Hogwarts has always prided itself in it’s consistent inclusion.” 

Much to my surprise, and probably even himself, Jasper almost entirely unnoticeably smiled back, “You have my gratitude for that, Headmaster. But for now, I’d like to discuss why my niece is covered in blood and filth because, apparently, she strolled right into The Chamber of Secrets and was nearly killed. Again.” 

“Understandably so.” Dumbledore nodded glancing at me, “Alongside Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, she helped save young Ginny Weasley’s life as well as the school. Voldemort preserved a memory of his teenage self in a diary and enchanted Ginny Weasley into opening the Chamber of Secrets, and unleashing a Basilisk onto the school. You should be incredibly proud of Estelle, Mr. Greengrass. Many fully grown witches and wizards wouldn’t have been able to achieve the feats she did tonight. She’s a remarkable young witch. She’s been awarded Special Awards for Services to the School.” 

“I…,” Jasper shifted stiffly and glanced at me, “The school is safe now. Due to… Estelle, and her…, ah, cohortes?” 

“Yes,” Dumbledore nodded, “Never again will the school be terrorized by the Chamber of Secrets. The basilisk has been slain and the diary destroyed.” 

“Slain the basilisk?” Jasper’s breath caught in his neck for a moment and his eyes grew wide breaking the mask of indifference and polite contempt.

He glanced at me before rubbing his face tiredly and quickly firing off a countless amount of colorful sounding Russian words under his breath. Daphne got her talent with languages from him. Dumbledore seemed amused by them at least. 

“The events that have transpired tonight are not the subject I would most like to discuss about your niece, Mr. Greengrass,” Dumbledore slowly explained once Jasper had stopped whispering Russian, making Jasper’s eyebrow twitch together in interest, “It appears as though the Vaile family will always find their way toward the forgotten Druid magic. After listening to her experience this year and the influence of her blood around magical creatures, it has become very clear that it is of the utmost importance that Estelle learns of her heritage. Fate has it that due to her blood she will have to be aware of dangers that we will never know. If we were to ignore this need, I fear mortal peril will befall her. Her safety is at the highest risk in her current state.” 

“How can she?” Jasper shook his head with a frown, “Calin Vaile was the last of his line. The Vaile Family is barely more than a memory. Grindelwald’s destruction of that line was completed by The D- He Who Must Not Be Named. She’ll never be able to learn Druid magic like those before her.” 

“Excuse me,” I piped up in a small voice making both of the light-haired men look at me as if they nearly forgot I was there, “I learned one a few months ago. There was a picture of an old ruin in one of the library books and the ruins described a spell. Learning it was...challenging at first, but I’m comfortable with it now. It’s a little like the Lumos spell.” 

“You can read the old druidic runes?” Jasper's jaw hung open slightly, “No one has successfully translated those in our history.” 

“I’m not sure how,” I flushed and shifted my weight on my sore legs, “I just can.” 

“Evidentiarily, the druids were much better at protecting their culture than history has credited them with. If you wouldn’t mind performing the spell for us, child,” Dumbledore raised his hand toward me with eyebrows raised.

“Leoht,” I said, holding up my grubby hands, and created an orb of celestial light. It was small, and pretty dim compared to most of my castings. My energy was nearly entirely drained. This was cast of the very last drop of magic left in me. I hope Pomfrey has more of those green potions to help replenish my mana. 

Jasper and Dumbledore were both transfixed with the orb of lunar light bobbing in my hand once I spoke the short incantation. The lunar warmth sent a rush of chills up my arms, but it flickered weakly unable to sustain itself off the very little magical stamina unclaimed by the adventure in the chamber. 

“I’m sorry,” I frowned at the pathetic orb, “Normally it’s much brighter. I’m just a little tired after… everything.” 

“Remarkable,” Jasper breathed, walking up to peer up to the light closely. His green eyes squinted from the close light. Warmth blossomed in my cheeks at the rare compliment, and I pointedly looked away from the man transfixed with my display in front of me. 

“When I take off the Glainnaider,” I nodded to Dumbledore releasing the spell not wanting to maintain it after having done it for so long in the chamber, “It glows brighter.” 

“The Glainnaider?” Uncle Jasper frowned glancing between Dumbledore and me suspiciously before glaring at Dumbledore with a muted hiss, “What is she talking about, Dumbledore?” 

“Calin Vaile left a druid’s glass in my possession before his capture fearing the worst befall him and Cordelia. He wanted to ensure his daughter protection against the intensity of Druid magic as everyone in the Vaile family had before her. It was dark times as I’m sure you haven’t forgotten,” Dumbledore was slow to respond and spoke delicately knowing that Jasper was one wrong comment away from being enraged, “Last year, Estelle was plagued with night visions that resulted in sleepwalking. The amulet will protect her mind until her magic is strong enough to support such a feat. There is little information about these amulets still known to the public but Calin made sure I was aware of the importance of the glainnaider in regards to his child. The risk of magical exhaustion without the relic is exceedingly high.” 

“Yet you didn’t find it pertinent to inform me? Her guardian?” Jasper scoffed, barely able to maintain his composure, and turned to me, “I cannot convey the amount... of disappointment I feel toward you for hiding something of such importance from me, young lady.” 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered looking at my muck-covered uniform shoes. The tension of the room made the idea of looking up from the ground feel as impossible as unsupported flight or the ability to see air. 

“I apologize.” Dumbledore nodded to Jasper treading lightly as to not invoke the final push my Uncle needed to fly off the handle into a rage, “Should another situation arise I shall notify you immediately. But the matter still remains about Estelle’s heritage. It is known that historically the tradition of The Vaile Family is to learn from older generations. Tragically young Estelle has been robbed of such a luxury. This responsibility has fallen to us to lend assistance to her in her pursuit of this education as they would have with the best of our abilities. It is incredibly fortunate I happen to know someone who’s spent their entire lives researching historical magic and wizarding cultures. It would be my pleasure to write and request he teach Estelle all he knows about Druids during the upcoming summer break. Of course, I shall only do so with your consent, Mr. Greengrass?” 

“I-,” Jasper halted himself from what seemed to be the outburst that had been brewing since he stepped foot into the office, and after a few seconds of tense inner thought exhaled, burying the anger, and nodded, “Sounds like the best course of action. Who might you have in mind precisely?” 

“Bathilda Bagshot’s apprentice, Gaius Mothen. I will notify you the moment I receive a response to the request and we can plan accordingly, Mr. Vaile. Now,” Dumbledore nodded standing up and gesturing toward the door, “It seems The Chamber has done a number on your niece, Mr. Greengrass. Would you mind escorting her to the Hospital Wing in order for Madam Pomfrey to disinfect her injuries before returning home?” 

“It would be my… pleasure. I will be in touch about the logistics about everything we discussed,” Jasper agreed knowing he didn’t have a choice, and extended his arm to me, which was hesitantly taken, and walked me from the office. 

Jasper didn’t say goodbye to the headmaster other than a sharp nod, but I weakly waved earning a soft smile from him. Fawkes ruffled his wings and watched me until the door shut behind us. 

Jasper didn’t speak until we were three corridors away from the Headmaster's Office. His breathing was strained, and his mouth was thinned as tightly as possible. The pressure smashing them together erased all the pink tones of the lips. My own breathing was jolted and came in repressed wheezes. The emptiness of the halls made my thoughts impossible to ignore. Everything in me was begging him to say anything to stop my imagination from wildly creating crueler and crueler words for him. Assumptions of how badly the rage, disappointment and deep dislike my actions invoked took over my mind. 

Finally, we were far away from the headmaster’s office for Jasper to halt and remove my grimy hand from his beautiful purple robes. The regal color suited his detached mannerisms, even with the delicately perfected mask of perfection slipping off his peachy toned face. 

He bent down to be eye level with me, and with a ferocious snarl at a nosy portrait, whispered as silently as possible ignoring the violent way my body was shaking, “What on earth were you thinking running off to…slay a basilisk? You could have died. You should have died. It’s a miracle you didn’t! Have you forgotten your actions represent me and the integrity of the Greengrass legacy? You have two responsibilities as a student: to stay out of trouble, and earn expected marks. This is far past trouble! When I told you your mother liked trouble, this is not the sort of trouble I was referring to! Have you gone absolutely mad?” 

“No, Sir,” I rapidly shook my head, feeling my lip quiver hating the angry way he was responding to this wishing he would just give me the hug I needed, “G-Ginny was taken and no one was going to save her. Ron, Harry and I-.” 

“Yes. Potter.” Jasper shook his head tightly looking upwards at the ceiling glancing around at the curious portraits hyper-aware of the unwanted audience, “That boy’s clearly on a mission to get himself and anyone who’s friends with him killed! Do you want to know why Daphne has never been on a dangerous adventure that could have gotten her killed? She’s safely in Slytherin far from that madman. Potter has the exact same addiction to attention that his father did. History’s doomed to repeat itself clearly. A group of four Gryffindors led by a Potter constantly getting up to no good around the castle. Cordelia would have my head if she knew what you’ve been up to… She would be so disappointed in you.” 

“I’m so sorry,” I frowned, feeling a small tear drip down my cheek. The runny tear mixed with the grime and blood on my cheek, “I-.” 

Noticing the whispers of the portraits growing, Jasper thinned his lips even more, and ripped his handkerchief from his pocket, cutting me off motioning for me to clean the tears away. The Greengrasses, subtle, and prowling in the shadows of their performative delicacy, were not about to ruin their pristine reputation due to humiliating, weak emotions.

Jasper’s painful grasp latched on my shoulder and hissed, “Let’s get you to Pomfrey. This is something to be discussed in private. You and I will be having words when you return home. I will not allow you to make this family any more of a spectacle than it already is from your actions at this school.” 

We walked in uncomfortable silence except for my wincing when I had to use stairs due to the pain in my knees from their wounds. The dirty water had leaked into all the cuts enraged the red slashes and broken skin. Everything hurts right now. Both physically and mentally, my body was overrun with throbbing pain. The door to the infirmary looked like the gates of heaven. 

When I entered with a stiff, judgemental looking Jasper standing behind me, the entire wing went silent. There had been a gaggle of red heads chattering loudly, with one black-haired boy chattering with them. Molly and Arthur rose to their feet and glared at my uncle, who glared back irritably. The night I attempted to contact Ron was not forgotten. Fred whispered something to George and quickly they joined their parent’s side to glare at the richly dressed man. Jasper raised a cold eyebrow and sneered at them. 

“Filthy, Weasleys,” He snarled under his breath as Pomfrey rushed over to me.

Jasper took a step out of the way to let Pomfrey swarm around me to take note of all my bumps, cuts, and bruises she would need to treat mentally. Quickly she handed me a set of white, clean pajamas and shuttered at the disgusting, and torn robes around me with the wrinkle of her nose. 

“Best change out of those robes before they cause an infection, Vaile,” She nodded motioning to a small bathroom at the end of the chamber. I took the pajamas from her and started to walk to the bathroom, but Jasper grabbed my shoulder and frowned. 

“Estelle, I best return to the estate before Astoria realizes I’ve gone,” He nodded, pausing only to glare at the group of Weasleys briefly, and frowned tightly to me, “If you get into even the smallest amount of trouble before arriving home, this will be your last year at Hogwarts. Do you hear me, young lady?” 

“Yes, sir,” I nodded weakly. He nodded slowly, not looking away from his intense eye contact, before turning swiftly on his heel and out the large wooden doors. 

“Prat,” Fred said loudly making sure the door hadn’t closed yet so Jasper would hear him and rushed over to me, with Ron, George, and Harry beside him, “We were worried he ripped you out of school for saving Gin. Bloody good thing you and Harry were around. Mum won’t stop calling you heroes.” 

“I helped too!” Ron huffed indigently. 

“Harry and Estelle! Our heros! I’m so happy I could kiss you!” George cried dramatically, pointedly ignoring Ron to mess with him, but then he leaned forward and planted a kiss on my lips with a loud smack. His lips were only against mine for the quickest second. They were chapped slightly, and he smelt like cinnamon, broom polish, and caramel cauldron cakes. It wasn’t a gentle or loving kiss and knocked me back slightly from the clumsy way he smashed his face against mine rapidly. George pulled back mischievously and snickered at my frozen state, “How can we ever repay you? My knight in shining armor!”

“Kisses!” Fred nodded, smirking at his twin, before looking at Harry, who was quickly backing away wide-eyed, “Come here, Hero Harry! I have to plant on you too! S’only fair! Grab him, George!” 

Even though my face was currently the reddest thing in a room full of Weasleys, I couldn’t help but laugh, forgetting all about Riddle and Uncle Jasper. I leaned against Ron, clutching my stomach from relentless laughter as Fred and George chased around Harry wildly until Pomfrey forced them to stop. A year ago I probably would have fainted if George kissed me at all, even if it was a joke. It really is remarkable how quickly things can change. We all gathered around Ginny’s bed, with the pajamas still in my hands, smiling wildly. 

“Got away this time, Potter,” George rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, Ginny will give you her kiss herself,” Fred jested back, “Right, Gin?”

The twins turned to their sister and made kissy faces. Ginny, turning a brighter shade of red than myself at my first kiss, threw her pillow at her brothers with an embarrassed moan. 

“Stop that you two!” Molly waved her arms at the twin boys, finally stopping the tornado effect her twin boys had, “Your sister needs her rest! Estelle, why don’t you go wash up and get changed? You all need your rest.” 

I quickly went into the bathroom ready to shower off all the gunk of the pipes, but paused to giggle at my reflection in the mirror. My fingers traced my lips lightly and blushed a bright, hot scarlet. My first kiss! In all the years daydreaming about it and talking about it with Daphne and Astoria, I never would have expected this to be how it happened, but first kisses are first kisses even if it was part of a joke. I guess all I needed was a basilisk to get it.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight: Till September Comes Again

As welcoming as the Weasley family was, Harry and I were perfectly aware that they needed at least a little alone time with Ginny. They almost lost her, and they were all looking at the pale girl like she was about to disappear at any moment. A sea of red hair was huddled around her bed even when she took a brief nap. It was a good thing they didn’t stray from the bed because she awoke suddenly with terrified screams until they dissolved into soft sobs muffled by her mother’s chest. 

Harry and I moved off to the side, seemingly unnoticed by the Weasleys because of their focus on their youngest member, and sat side by side on the edge of one of the infirmary beds. We wore white pajamas without any noteworthy aesthetics. The white cleanliness clashed with our scuffed, cut, and battered bodies despite washing away the layers and layers of filth. The color of the water that ran off my body in the infirmary shower was sickening. 

My ribbon laid forgotten somewhere down in the chamber, and Molly Weasley, after watching me wince with every stubborn knot, had brushed out my long black hair and braided it into one French braid. Listening to her humming as she motherly combed out my hair lulled me away from the tense memory of Riddle, and the hot cocoa I sipped on soothed me even more. I couldn’t help but feel disappointment once Molly finished my braid and quickly returned to her daughter’s side beside Arthur. 

After so many years of wearing the half up half down style with my ribbons, exposing my neck made me feel naked and exposed but Molly’s movements were so full of love and gentleness that my hands subconsciously ran along the bumps and weaves of the braid like I was hypnotized by maternal love. 

Shoulder to shoulder, Harry and I were both extremely exhausted, but too little time had passed since facing our parents’ killer to fade off into dreamland. It was the kind of exhaustion that surpassed the desire for sleep. Our bodies had grown used to the state of foggy heaviness like it was the new normal. All the energy we had was burned up by the mental challenge of digesting what we just went through. Neither of us spoke. 

I know I can’t claim to read Harry’s mind, but I couldn’t help but assume he was thinking the same thing as I was. Or rather, yearning for the same thing as me. Watching Molly and Arthur gather Ginny in their arms to soothe her made me want nothing more than to sob into my mother or father’s chest until I felt safe again. I wanted them to be the ones who ran into Dumbledore’s office and have no stupid social appearance to uphold when they gathered me into their arms and squeezed so tightly that all my injuries ached. It would have been a good ache. A smothering ache that sung into my ear warmly, ‘It’s okay, my darling girl. Nothing will ever hurt you again. Tom Riddle is gone. I’ll protect you. I’m so proud of you. Please don’t cry. I’m here.’

I wanted someone to hold me and say, “I’m here, and I always will be. I love you.” 

But that would never happen. Not for me. Not for Harry. Our orphan status crushed us, especially in moments like these. It was all Tom Riddle’s fault. He ruined my life, and I just met him. His bone-white smile, and smooth voice felt stained onto my brain. Now I would have the burden of a face to match with the monster of my nightmares. 

After about an hour of enjoying each other’s company while losing ourselves in our thoughts, I broke the silence, aware of the watery tone of my voice that made Harry snap his head to look at me, “So, that was him? The one who k-killed-…. Is this how you felt after Quirrell last year?” 

“A little,” Harry frowned quietly and looked back where the Weasley family were whispering to each other, “Last year Voldemort was barely strong enough to speak. Riddle…. What did he say to you when I wasn’t there?” 

“He…,” I trailed off, before shaking my head sharply and slamming my eyes shut when his face flashed in my mind, “Terrible things. He was going to take my blood. I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you didn’t stop him. He almost took you too.” 

“We stopped him,” Harry corrected firmly, shaking his head, forcing me to look into his eyes, “Don’t think about that.” 

“Well, you did most of the work,” I sniffed with a weak smile, wiping away a tear, “Fought a basilisk and everything.” 

“I did, didn’t I?” Harry’s lips twitched into a half-smile, “I’m glad you were there.” 

Ignoring the way my muscles protested against the movement, I reached over and held Harry’s hand, making our metal friendship bands from Christmas clink together, “Me too.” 

“Think we’ll have a normal school year next year?” Harry joked, sounding every bit as exhausted as we looked.

He squeezed my hand tightly. He didn’t have to say it for me to understand. He was glad I was there in the chamber, but he’s also glad now that he doesn’t have to be the only one feeling so alone in moments like this. We were a team. Siblings. 

“With our luck, definitely not,” I laughed, and nudged his shoulder lightly, “Love you, Harry.” 

“Love you too,” He swallowed thickly, “You think… if there is a heaven, our parents are watching over us together?” 

“I’d like to think so,” I nodded, pulling my hand away and rubbing it along the duvet of the hospital bed, “Sorry, a bit sweaty.” 

Suddenly, Harry laughed, smiling ear to ear, “You should have seen your face when you realized you landed in rat bones. It was brilliant.” 

“It was disgusting. I feel like I still need to take twenty showers at least to get all the filth off,” I shuttered, but joined in his giggles. I glanced over to the long row of frozen students, and sighed, “How are we going to catch Hermione up on everything?” 

“If anyone can keep up, it’s her,” Harry replied, “I’m more worried about what she'll do when she finds out exams are in a few days.” 

“Or when she finds out Lockhart was a fraud,” I giggled, meeting Harry’s eyes. There was a pause before we fell into a fit of giggles. After the night we had the chance to laugh, even if the joke wasn’t that funny or clever, it was a breath of fresh air. 

☾☾☾☾

Madam Pomfrey, after a pathetic amount of pleading, allowed me to search for my cat. I needed to get away from the hyper-awareness that my family was dead around the Weasley’s. It wasn’t their fault. It was Riddle’s. 

The memory of Tom’s face was plastered across the back of my eyelids. Each time I blinked, all I could see and think of was the teenage self of the man who ruined my life before I could even walk. The charming, handsome teenage boy who grew up to be one of the most wicked and twisted man in history. 

Even with the calming draught from Pomfrey, my nerves were wrecked, and I felt ready to burst into tears at any given moment. All I wanted was to bury my face in Bernard’s thick fur and feel the calming buzz of his purrs. His grumpy little face was exactly what my heart needed right now. 

The few people I passed in the halls had clearly heard about what happened because they looked at my cut-up face and busted knees with shameless fascination. Now that the Chamber of Secrets was no longer a threat, students were allowed to roam the halls again. Their muffled whispers were suffocating no matter how quickly I walked away from them.

I was about to give up looking for my massive cat when I heard a familiar voice curse hotly followed by a few consecutive thumps and a cry of pain. The sounds were barely muffled by the thick wooden door of an empty classroom that was obviously out of commission judging from the cobweb gathering in the left-hand corner.

Frowning, I pressed my ear against the door. After another explosion of colorful profanity, any doubts I had about who was in the classroom disappeared. My hand gripped the iron door handle, unsure if I should disturb the private moment. After a rather loud thump followed by a cry of pain, I pushed open the door with a slow creak of the rusty hinges. 

George Weasley was glaring down at his bloody fist, and stubbornly blinking away tears in his eyes. He stood at the front of the room on a small teaching platform beside a teacher’s desk. Three long rows of student desks were lined up to face the platform. He was probably one of the first students in a long time to visit the room, judging from the thick layer of grey dust blanketing all the furniture. Even with the creaky door, my arrival went unnoticed to George.

His face twisted in anger as he slammed his battered fist into the stone wall again and snarled, “Idiot!” 

I nearly tripped over myself from the speed I had to run to him to prevent him from slamming his fist into the wall again. He didn’t even notice I was there until my hand grabbed his wrist in an attempt to stop him from hurting himself anymore. My muscles screamed in their soreness as they failed to totally stop the stronger, older boy from moving but was just enough to make his fist lightly bump against the beige stone. All those insane training drills Wood made him and Fred do made him ridiculously stronger than me. 

“What are you doing?” I cried, not letting go of his hand until he pulled it from me to rub his face, “You’re hurting yourself!” 

George said nothing for a second. His face was red and splotchy from the enraged pounding of his heart. His bloody hand was rubbing his face so roughly it’s a miracle he didn’t rip out all his eyelashes. Even if he still hit the wall, my sudden appearance had rattled him out of his blind rage enough to stop attacking the unbreakable stone. 

The tension in the room was overwhelming until he sighed heavily and leaned against the dusty professor’s desk. His dark uniform pants contrasted dramatically with the grey dust that transferred onto his pants from leaning against the desk. I waited for him to respond, but he merely inspected the broken skin on his knuckles. His anger seemed to evaporate from him, leaving behind soberness I’d never seen on the playful redhead. 

Silently, I walked over to the desk, and hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder. He refused to look at me, and I gave up on waiting for him to talk, “You can talk to me. I’m not Fred or Lee, I know, but…” 

“I-,” He started but swallowed thickly and frowned so harshly that his chin quivered slightly. 

“But, you also don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I will not force you, George,” I whispered, before reaching into my uniform robe’s inner pocket and pulling out a light pink handkerchief and offering it to George, “Do you think you broke any bones?”

“No,” He mumbled and accepted my offer with a wet chuckle, “Sure you want me to bloody this up? Looks nice.” 

“I don’t mind. I have a bunch of those. Don’t worry about it. You can have that one,” I responded watching a tear escape from his dark brown lashes before he rushed to get rid of it, flushing from embarrassment. 

“You must think I’m such a wuss,” George joked, blinking away tears rapidly. He hesitated over the bloody knuckles before gently dabbing away the blood with the soft bit of fabric. His hands were shaking lightly. 

“After everything that has happened today? Not at all,” I shook my head. Silence fell between us and I added gently, “It’s okay to not be okay.” 

George nodded, obviously not trusting his voice, and focused on the way his dark blood stained the pink handkerchief a maroon. His hands were quivering. We sat in silence for a little while. I didn’t want to press him, but my overwhelming need to help him feel better was impossible to ignore. Just as I was about to speak again, George finally opened up. 

“I’m a rubbish older brother,” He mumbled. 

“What?” I shook my head, and my brows pulled together in confusion, “You’re a great older brother, George. What are you talking about?” 

He pushed away from the desk with a puff, and shook his head, looking at me like I was insane, “Ginny almost died. If I had been a better older brother, none of this would have happened.” 

“George,” I shook my head and tried to reason with his distraught guilt, “No one had any idea what was going on. You can’t blame yourself.” 

“But I did!” George hissed, and I had to force myself to remember he wasn’t shouting at me but the universe, “I knew she wasn’t acting like herself and I didn’t do anything. Just thought she was a bit bent out of shape because of the attacks or that she was homesick or something.” 

“I did too,” I frowned, “How could you have possibly guessed what was going on?” 

“I’m her big brother! It’s my job to protect her,” He shouted at me, before kicking the wall hotly making me flinch, “If it weren’t for you and Harry…”

“I-,” I gulped, shaken by his aggressive tone, but quickly forced words of comfort past it, “You can’t think like that. Everything ended up okay.” 

“I-…I know,” George sighed before glancing at my stiff posture and wincing, “Shite. Sorry. I wasn’t shouting at you. I just… should have been better this year. Perce kept telling us that Ginny wasn’t being herself, but we just thought he was being… well, Percy. I should have listened.” 

“You know, I remember plenty of times you and Fred tried to cheer her up. Remember when you gave yourself the neon orange fur and boils?” I pointed out, watching him come lean against the desk beside me again, “You can’t pretend you didn’t care. I know you did. I saw it myself.” 

“Yeah, we tried a little but Fred and I were so wrapped up in our plans,” George paused to chuckle weakly, and smirked sadly, “Suppose to keep this a secret but we decided to become entrepreneurs. Open up our own joke shop. Like Zonko’s. Reckon we were too wrapped up in our scheming to notice a lot this year.” 

“George...,” I shook my head, trying to figure out the best thing to say. 

“When I heard my little sister was taken. My little sister,” He buried his head in his hands, “All I could think about was how I kept brushing her off. Bless her, she must have felt all alone. If I would’ve been a proper older brother, she’d’ve never even written in that bloody diary. How rubbish of an older brother am I that she turned to a talking diary before me?” 

“The only person to blame is You-Know-Who. You can’t blame yourself for putting all your energy into your dream. Sure, you maybe could have paid a bit more attention to her from time to time, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. Part of how she was brainwashed was cutting her off from everyone, you know? I met him…. George, I promise you focusing less on your dreams would have protected her from the diary. He tricked her. He tricked Harry, too. He’s tricked a lot of people,” I argued and George slowly nodded, seeing reason with each one of my points, “Besides you can’t go and change the past, can you? Ginny needs her family right now after what happened down in the chamber, and no one makes her laugh like you and Fred.” 

“You think?” He replied after a moment of deep thought. A lot of his anger and guilt seemed to ease off his shoulders. 

“Absolutely,” I confirmed, “She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself anyway.” 

“You’re right,” He finally admitted with a sigh and looked down at me with a smile, “Thanks for this. I was going a bit off the deep end. I owe you one.” 

“Ah, please don't thank me. It was my pleasure,” I shook my head with a polite smile and nodded at the bloody handkerchief, “Please, keep it. I have too many.” 

“Ron wasn’t kidding when he said you talk like the queen,” He smirked, and held up the stained square of fabric between two fingers, “I’ll treasure it forever. Probably pass it on to my kid on day.” 

“You think?” I tilted my head with a small giggle.

My face grew warm when I realized this was the first time I’ve ever been alone with George. Especially after that joke kiss. I could feel my face turning bright red, even if my crush was not as crippling anymore. He was kind of sweet; I guess. 

“Yeah,” He joked, slipping back into his jester personality like a rock falling to the bottom of a pool, “Unless he’s a snotty git. Then I’ll make sure they bury it with me.” 

“Well, of course,” I played along in a mock-serious tone, “I cannot waste such a fine inheritance.” 

“Precisely,” He beamed and ran a finger along the desk to inspect the dust, “What were you up over in this part of the castle? Barely anyone comes here.” 

“I was trying to find my cat,” I pouted with a sigh, “I have no idea where he is. He is always wandering off. Apparently he was in the Ravenclaw common room last week.” 

“Well, well, well. Ms. Vaile, I think I can be of assistance. I do owe you after all,” George reminded me and then smirked, raising an eyebrow, “Close your eyes.” 

“Pardon?” I blinked. My cheeks grew warm again. 

“You heard me. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you where he is. Bernard, right?” He pulled out his wand, and the exhaustion of the day left me with no energy to fight him. 

“Yes, Bernard’s his name. Please don’t mess with me, George,” I covered my eyes with my hands and waited. 

“When have I ever messed with anyone? I’m a very nice boy,” The sarcasm in the statement was light but if you knew anything about him or his twin, it was easy to understand the joke in his banter. The sound of parchment rustling and an inaudible whisper came from where George stood. Before I had a chance to crack open my eyes, he tutted and the rustling of parchment grew louder before stopping after another whisper, “No peeking!” 

“When can I open my eyes?” I wrinkled my nose, “I feel silly.” 

“Alright, alright. You can open,” He said, and his smirking face was the first thing I saw from where he leaned against the enormous desk, “Check the courtyard near the bell towers.” 

“How would you know that?” I crossed my arms, “Are you messing with me?” 

“Oh, ye of little faith,” He waggled his finger, “A magician never reveals his secrets. I already told you about Freddie and I’s plans. Only you and Lee know about it now.” 

“Alright, fine,” I rolled my eyes, “I don’t have any better ideas, anyway.” 

“Come on,” He nodded and walked toward the door to hold open for me, “I’ll come with you. I’ll try not to gloat too much when I’m right.” 

My face flushed slightly as I walked next to the older student. It wasn’t like last year, though. I didn’t feel so clumsy and stupid around him or so adoring like he was some pop singer. I hummed, unsure of what to say, and fiddled with the rose carving on the end of my wand. Clearly, the kiss was just a joke. I could accept that. No need to get worked up over a joke and totally embarrass myself like last year. 

“Don’t tell Mum about the shop,” George spoke up quickly with a worried expression, “She’d go batty knowing we aren’t going to get a ministry job.” 

“Really?” I frowned, “I can’t really see you at a desk job.” 

“Well, she can,” He rolled his eyes, “Thinks if we don’t end up doing the same old boring stuff like everyone else we’ll be bums on Percy’s sofa.” 

“Well, Zonko’s hasn’t come out with any new products since the founder died and it’s still super popular. They could use the competition, I’m sure,” I pointed out, “Have any luck with new products?” 

“Not just yet,” He winced, “Which is why we reckon we ought to keep it hush-hush until we do. Swear you won’t say anything?” 

“Of course!” I nodded with a wide smile, “You won’t hear a peep out of me!” 

“Ron too?” 

“That one will be a little harder because he’s one of my best friends but I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to,” I rolled my eyes, “I doubt he would say anything to your parents if you asked him to keep it a secret. He’s really good at it.”

“Maybe if you're his mate!” He scoffed as we approached a long staircase downward toward the Bell Tower courtyard, “Always been shite at it in my experience. Especially if it can get him out of trouble.” 

“So…,” I put my hand on the railing of the stairs to avoid tripping over my own two feet, and wincing with each step-down. The soreness of my muscles made me forget my train of thought and I winced, “Pardon. Hogwarts has way too many stairs.” 

George looked down his shoulder at me as we reached the bottom and frowned, “What happened down there, anyway? You and Harry both look knackered. Didn’t want to ask in front of Gin, you know.” 

“Oh,” I paused on the last step, fully aware I didn’t want to talk about it and was unsure of how to even start, “A lot happened.” 

“Ah,” George ran a hand through his hair, “I should shut up. I wouldn't want to talk about it either. I’m an egghead.” 

“Ha! No. No, you’re fine,” I shook my head, “Maybe another time? When I’m not about to cry every time I see stairs.” 

“Stairs? At Hogwarts? Reckon, it’s a good thing we barely have any of those. But sure. Until then,” George smirk and squatted down, motioning to his back, “Hop on.” 

“Hop on?” I squeaked, “Like your back?” 

“Like a piggyback ride? Don’t tell me purebloods are too good to do piggy back rides?” George rolled his eyes before letting his jaw drop at my obvious unfamiliarity with them, “Merlin’s Beard! You are a total priss, aren’t you?” 

“I am not!” I pouted. 

His smirk deepened devilishly, “C’mon. Prove it then.” 

“I-I wouldn’t even know how to get onto your back,” I stammered, feeling warm cheeked. 

“Priss!” He laughed loudly and bent down again, “You just jump. You look like you're going to cry every time you take a step. It’ll be fun.” 

“I…,” I stared at him for a moment before giving in, “Alright. You win.” 

“Hold on!” He looked over his shoulder once I was on his back trying not to blush too hard. 

“Hold on? Ah!” I screamed as George started to run as fast as possible through the halls toward the Bell Tower courtyard.

My body jostled from the breakneck speed but I couldn’t stop laughing despite the looks we were getting. The smell of caramel cauldron cakes, broom polish and cinnamon was mixed with the smell of the fresh summer air abundantly wafting in from the windows and arches of the halls. We zoomed past Sprout, who told us not to run but otherwise laughed at the sight of students finally having fun after the terror of the chamber. She struggled with treating anyone in the Herbology club like an average student, anyway. 

George and I were laughing so hard by the time we reached the courtyard that my cheeks were sore. The summer sun was bright and warm against my battered skin. It felt good to leave the castle for a minute. My giggles made the bruises on my side ache and the cut on my lip reopen, but I couldn't have cared less. 

“Told you so,” He smirked, slowing to a stop in front of a sleepy-looking Bernard laying against the cobblestone enjoying the warmth of the sunlight. I slipped from George’s back with a gasp of surprise. I scooped up Bernard and looked to where George was smiling smugly with his arms crossed. He patted Bernard on the head playfully, which earned him a grumpy look from my furry companion. 

“How did you know where he was?” I asked wide-eyed, “Please teach me! I waste so much time looking for him.” 

“I told you,” He wiggled his finger as he did earlier, “A magician never reveals his secrets.” 

☾☾☾☾  
The Great Hall was ablaze that night with the wildfire topic of how Potter and his friends not only saved the school but slew a basilisk, saved Ginny Weasley’s life, and defeated Voldemort once more. People were tentative to talk to Ginny, after hearing what truly unfolded this year, but she sat firmly between Fred and George, who had her coughing up her pumpkin juice from laughing so hard. I caught George’s eye and shared a smile at his attempts to make Ginny more comfortable. 

Hopefully, she barely noticed the looks she was getting. Midway through the feast, Jareth Avery popped up from behind me and wrapped his arms around me tightly making my sore body scream out but I just laughed and hugged him back. I was still a little rattled from Riddle’s memory clinging in my head. Jareth’s arms felt safe and familiar, even if it was only a brief hug. 

“Next year,” He flicked a curl of dark hair out of his golden eyes with a smirk pausing to wink at a Gryffindor in his year down the table before placing his hand on the top of my head and squeezing softly, “I’ll kill you myself if you end the year almost getting yourself killed. At least bring me along next time you risk your neck. Understand?” 

“Yes, Jareth,” I chuckled, rolling my eyes at the Ravenclaw who hurried down the table and slipped into the barley open space beside the Gryffindor he winked at earlier. She just rolled her eyes and waved him off with her hand... He looked overly satisfied when he returned back to his own table. I guess he broke up with the Hufflepuff girl. 

“I’m so jealous,” Lavender sighed, staring at the older boy sitting at Ravenclaw with her head in her hand, “He’s so cute.” 

“He’s alright,” I smiled down at my goblet filled with pumpkin juice and rolled my eyes, “He’s kind of like the older brother I never wanted.” 

Quickly we fell back into our group discussion, changing topics rapidly. Lockhart’s leave was a popular subject. All his fans were terribly saddened, but everyone else couldn’t have been more pleased. No one really knew what was going to happen for the last two weeks of Defense Against The Dark Arts classes, but no one cared enough to ask during the magnificent feast. 

“Harry,” Neville shouted over at us wide-eyed and pointed at the door, “It’s Hermione!”

I leaned back, with Harry and Ron following suit behind me, and beamed brighter than the sun ever had at the sight of my best friend moving once more. Her wildly curly hair was full of life and movement while she raced toward us. My arms were ready to hug her tightly and her body slammed into me from the speed of her run hard enough that we both stumbled back giggling. I breathed in her familiar smell and sighed in relief. 

“I missed you so much,” I told her, “Hogwarts isn’t the same without you. I have so much to tell you.” 

She didn’t have a chance to respond because the moment we pulled back from our hug Harry hugged her too. Finally, she turned to Ron, who blushed, and raised his hand for her to shake, which she did blushing similarly to Ron, “Welcome back, Hermione.” 

Harry caught my eye and rolled his eyes at their ridiculousness. I had a feeling it was only just starting between those two. Especially from the way their faces were both bright red. 

Hermione smiled brightly and said, “It’s good to be back! Congratulations! I can’t believe you solved it!” 

“Well, we had loads of help from you. We couldn’t have done it without you,” Harry was quick to give credit where credit was due. My old friends would have never done anything like that in a situation like this. Everyone was too power-hungry to say something like that.

“Thanks,” Hermione blushed again. A ringing sound echoed in the hall, silencing everyone quickly. 

The others and I quickly sat back down in our spots, making room for our freshly uncertified friend. McGonagall was tapping her silverware against her goblet, and addressed the school looking toward Dumbledore, “Could I have your attention, please?” 

“Before we begin the feast, let us have a round of applause for Professor Sprout, the Herbology Club and Madame Pomfrey, whose Mandrake juice has been so successfully administered to all who had been Petrified,” Dumbledore took a moment to pause as we all gave a roar of applause, and I noticed that anyone actually in the herbology club was clapping the loudest in reward for dealing the rowdy mandrakes through their teenage years, and when the Hall was silent once more, Dumbledore added, “Also, in light of the recent events, as a school treat, all exams have been canceled.” 

The roar of cheered was almost loud enough that I didn’t hear Hermione pout from beside me, “Oh, no!” 

The cheering was halted when the large wooden doors slammed open at the end of the hall. We all looked in silence to see Hagrid standing in the doorway, a bit uncomfortable with all the eyes on him. The large man glanced around with a blush, “Sorry I’m late!”

“The owl that delivered my release papers got all lost and confused. Some ruddy bird called Errol,” Hagrid stopped on his path to the faculty table beside us and winked at a red-faced Ron about their disaster of a family bird. He smiled at the four of us, and awkwardly nodded his head, “And I’d just like to say that if it hadn’t been for you, Harry, and Estelle, and Ron, and Hermione, o’ course, I woulduh-… I’d still be you-know-where, so I- I’d just like to say Thanks.” 

Harry was the first to respond and threw his arms around Hargid, “Well, there’s no Hogwarts without you, Hagrid.” 

“Oh,” Hagrid smiled down at Harry. 

With Ron, and Hermione seconds behind me, I threw my arms around the large man happily. From up on the teacher’s platform, Dumbledore slowly started to clap. My friends and I pulled away and eagerly joined in the headmaster’s applause. Soon, the entire school was cheering for our blushing groundskeeper. Well, except the Slytherins. But I was perfectly happy to be exactly where I was. 

☾☾☾☾

The rest of the school year passed like it was bathed in intense golden summer sun, just like the intensity of the gloom plaguing it for months. The laughter returned to the halls, and no one was scared to go off alone. Even the first years! I stumbled across Margaret Brown twirling in a side courtyard with the other Hufflepuff in her year for the first time in months. HHC meetings with her and Cedric took twice as long with the way the beat-up radio was blaring tunes that made you just want to bop around and smile. It was even louder during the farewell picnic for the seventh year members, where we all wore flower crowns and cloud gazed an entire Saturday away.

They canceled Defense Classes as there was no longer a professor. Luckily Hermione stopped having a crush on Lockhart the moment she learned he was a total fraud and only cared because we were missing out on learning. Speaking of crushes, to say she interrogated me about my first kiss would be an understatement, and I still haven’t convinced her I don’t have a crush on George again. It’s true. I mean, I simply can’t allow myself to crush on a boy who wanted to feed a poor salamander a firework! But maybe, I’ll be his friend. 

Unlike before, Draco was the only person unhappy with the turns of events as Lucius was no longer the school governor. It made everything so much sweeter after how insufferable he’s been all year. Instead, it was Ginny that was perfectly happy, finally free from the influence of Riddle. 

Well, at least that’s how it seemed from the outside looking in. Her family, Harry, Hermione, and I had all taken it upon ourselves to keep her mind off everything. It helped distract her from the countless stares and rumors going around about her right now. The night she returned to the Common Room she looked unbearably lost looking into the sea of judgemental stares. Harry, saving her once again, walked right up to her and asked if she wanted to play a round of exploding snap. I joined them after a few rounds, and was followed by the others. We played until we could barely keep our eyes open. 

Before long, we all piled onto the scarlet Hogwarts Express and tried our best to make the most of the last bit of the school year. Fred, George, Ginny, and the four of us shared a compartment filled with intense laughter and games of exploding snap. It had become the go-to distraction for Ginny. We even set off the last of Fred and George’s Filibuster fireworks. Ginny told us she had walked in on Percy and Penelope Clearwater kissing in an abandoned classroom. Fred dropped a stack of books on George's head in shock. 

“What?” They both cried, not able to wrap their heads around Ginny’s statement. 

“That’s who he was writing to all last summer. He’s been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was- you know- attacked. You won’t tease him, will you?” She asked anxiously, but it was too late and even she knew it. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Fred like we had handed him a million shiny galleons. 

“Definitely not,” George snickered as the train finally slowed to a stop. Harry gave Hermione and Ron both a scrap of parchment and winced at my frown. 

“I’d give you one, Estelle but your family…,” He explained with a tone rich in pity.

“I know,” I frowned, waving a hand in dismissal and a sad sigh, “It’s okay. It would only end in trouble. What is it?” 

“This is called a telephone number,” Harry told Ron pointing at the scribbled numbers, “I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer- He’ll know. Call me at the Dursleys’, okay? I can’t stand another summer with only Dudley to talk to.” 

“Who knows Estelle,” Ron said optimistically, “Maybe the Garret guy will let you owl us!” 

“Gaius,” Hermione corrected Ron before glancing at me, “Have you heard anything about him? I have seen a few of his books. I wish I had read them now. He’s very respected, you know.” 

“Just his name. All I know is his name is Gaius Mothem,” I winced, “I meet him tomorrow, I think.” 

“Well, can’t be worse than a summer with your family,” Ron pointed out, and hissed at Hermione after she elbowed him, “Ouch, Hermione! We all know they’re bloody awful.” 

“I’d take the stranger over my family any day,” Harry muttered darkly, sharing a knowing look with me, “Wish I could tag along.”

“Your aunt and uncle will be proud, won’t they?” Hermione frowned as we all gathered our things to get off the train.

“Proud?” scoffed Harry, “Are you crazy? All those times I could’ve died, and I didn’t manage it? They’ll be furious…” 

“Imagine,” I giggled as we came up to the exit of the train and I forced myself to ignore the familiar head of blond hair for one last moment of happiness, “We survive Aragog, a basilisk, and You-Know-Who but it’s your muggle family that ends up killing you from annoyance.” 

-End Of Year Two-

☾☾☾☾

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! That's the end of the second part. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far, and intend on reading further. Officially gone over 200k words, which is bonkers! I never expected so many people to enjoy the fanfic I write in my down time to diffuse my anxiety. So, thank you! I am currently working on the summer before third year, and it is 100% original writing so it is obviously taking longer than canon chapters. On top of that I am starting my final semester of college, in creative writing, and most of my time is going to be eaten up by my final project. So I've decided to take a break to stock pile chapters until March 5th to really take my time on the next bits. I hope no one minds. Don't worry I'd never abandon this fic! The last thing I want to say is that my beta writer has become really swamped and can no longer read over my writing before I post. I am dyslexic, and tend to get carried away in my writing. I hope it hasn't been too awful these last two chapters. If anyone wants to be a beta reader, contact me on twitter (@/ hogwartsfairy) or email me at my gmail which is purebloodcrybaby. Even if you aren't into grammar, I'd love someone to bounce ideas off of and see what's working and isn't! Plus, you get to read way before the public and have a small say in plot! I'll see you all in March, and can't wait to see what you all think of her summer adventures coming up.- Caroline (PS. Thank you for all the comments and reviews. They make me more happy than you know. I hope you all stick around for year three and beyond <3)


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